


Heirs

by starry4ever



Category: bts, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Casual Sex, Dubious Consent, ENDGAME HAPPY YOONMIN, Explicit Sexual Content, Guilt Sex, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, I’ll fix tags as I go, M/M, Mental & Emotional Abuse, Mr. Park is bad, No Aftercare, Physical Abuse, Rich heirs, Slut Shaming, Some angst, Suga is good at feelings, abusive father for poor Jimin, almost pimping out, explicit - Freeform, homophobic language and sentiments, jimin is whipped, maybe less angst, maybe more angst than I thought
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 56,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26059558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starry4ever/pseuds/starry4ever
Summary: Two families‘ heirs meet for the first time... Park Jimin has been taught early on that the other is an enemy... Min Yoongi has been hidden...
Relationships: Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin
Comments: 159
Kudos: 162





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Started as TWT story... but I suck...
> 
> Hmmmmmmmmmm... hold on to your panties, just in case... not sure where this will go🙈
> 
> But, it’s me, so it’s SO going to be happy yoonmin🥴🙊👍🏻

**************

Jimin unfastened his seat belt and stood stiffly, waving away the offer of assistance as he threw his coat on.

How dare his father think to control his life like this.

With his full lips pulled into a grim line, he snatched his shoulder bag and, waving dismissively to the attendant again, prepared to leave his father’s plane.

As he strode forward to enter the limousine awaiting him, hearing everyone scrabbling behind him to load his bags, he threw himself into the car, expertly opening the minibar and pouring himself a drink.

The old man would regret his actions today. Jimin knocked back the neat scotch with a small grimace.

Jimin had invited his current paramour to accompany him on this godforsaken benefit weekend. Charity. It was laughable. Jimin knew it was just another attempt by his father to buy the business of a rather lucrative client he had been wooing for years.

Jimin poured himself another drink, thinking about Chanyeol’s face and his own embarrassment when Chanyeol had been denied boarding privilege and promptly sent home in a taxi by his father’s henchmen.

Now who the fuck was he supposed to do?

Jimin looked at the passing scenery without noting any of it.

There were always an amazing mix of people, old and young, but the same situations at these posh, overdone affairs... business looking to mix with business, business looking to mingle with personal to further business, personal looking to mingle with business to become more of the latter. 

Everyone was in it for something... oh, /and/ to give to charity. Sure. To further the personal or the business, ideally, both.

Jimin licked his bottom lip, more annoyed than angry after the soothing flush of alcohol.

Him? He was supposed to be here for both. To be paraded before daughters, to be shown off to business associates and potential clients... to woo and seduce any lucrative relationships if opportunities were to be had. 

His father might find his sexual orientation distasteful, but he wasn’t above condoning liaisons if it furthered their interests. Jimin smirked. That was why Chanyeol had been sent home - Abeonim wanted no distractions for Jimin. The potential client that was hosting this benefit had a daughter. 

And there was another reason that Jimin had been coerced to participate this weekend. The Mins were finally bringing their extremely reclusive son out to the public

The Mins were a thorn in his father’s side, personally and in business. 

His father lost deals to the Mins.

His father lost sleep to the Mins. 

His father had lost his chosen fiancée to Min Young-Min

Jimin was unsure of the details, but when deep in his soju and scotch, his father would sometimes ramble about the loss of his handpicked bride, despite her background. The ethereally white skin, the intense, captivating eyes,.. the almost dangerously feline allure paired with a biddable, angelic disposition... he had thought she was perfect. Until he found out that she had accepted a proposal from the rival Min family’s heir.

Jimin snorted to himself. 

This weekend was supposed to show how weak the Min blood and future was, compared to the viable, visibly superior heir to the Park business and inheritance in the form of himself, one Park Jimin. Highly visible within the glitterati, feted and wooed by heirs and celebrities, Park Jimin was a social force, whether within murmured scandals or admiring party hostesses of the highest echelons of polite society.

Whereas no one had really seen, let alone /knew/, the Min heir. No one he knew was even that sure of his name, which was exceedingly remarkable in this day and age.

Jimin had been educated at the finest university, groomed to be his father’s successor from the moment his mother’s pregnancy was pronounced viable and his sex discovered. He was encouraged to be competitive in sports, influenced in fashion, courtesy, and presentation, and had the gift of charming people almost from birth. His father had almost everything he dreamed of in a son in Jimin.

Except three things.

Jimin was short. Jimin had wanted to become a dancer and had taken lessons, competing in secret, until he was caught. Jimin was gay.

All three were irrefutably unacceptable to the head of the Park family.

“Ah, Park Jimin-ssi... it’s a pleasure to see you again.” Boomed the burly man, Kim Min-Jun.

Jimin bowed correctly and precisely to his host.

“Your parents are eager for your arrival.” The wife of his host smiled sweetly at him, amused.

“Perhaps not as eagerly as our daughter, though.” The heavy-set man rolled his eyes indulgently.

Jimin flashed his very charming grin. So charming, few people noticed it rarely reached his eyes.

“In the case of your daughter, sir, perhaps not as eager as I am, myself, to again make her acquaintance.”

It was too easy.

As he bowed again, following the servant to his room as others fell in line behind him with his things, he again thought of the Min heir.

His father theorized he must be an incredible embarrassment, having never met anyone who could speak reliably of the boy’s existence. Park Jung-Hwa reveled in the idea of a buffoon, unpresentable and little more than a half-wit. His own son may be short and gay, but he was smart and attractive, he would say to his wife again and again, consoling himself on his lucky escape from a marriage to a woman that had birthed such an embarrassment. Or so he told himself.

He heard the knock as he readied himself for cocktails preceding dinner. Tonight was just an initial meet and greet, everyone sizing up one another’s wallets and prestige, before things would get serious tomorrow evening, after a full day of small activities and networking opportunities.

Oh, and the charity kids.

They were apparently raising money for funding music programs in poor, rural areas, as well as funding full scholarships for exceptional, musically gifted children...that were poor.

‘Like the poor needed to become musicians. They needed to work to help their families eat,” Jung-Hwa spit out, but he’d donate if it would further his relationship with the Kims. 

Jimin cared little, at any rate.

“Jimin. Open.”

Jimin sighed and unlocked the door.

Jung-Hwa looked him over. “You know what to do.”

Jimin walked away from him to face the mirror, slipping another earring in as his father twisted his lips in distaste.

“Yes, Abeonim.”

“The Min boy isn’t supposed to show until dinner, I hear. At this point, I'm unsure if he really exists,” his father grumbled.

“Are the Mins here?” Jimin asked sharply, eyeing his father to gauge his reaction.

Ah.

His father stiffened, a dark scowl on his face.

“Yes.”

He abruptly turned and left without another word.

“Nice speaking with you, Abeonim.” He stated to the door.

And so the evening progressed as he had expected. 

Forced compliments, easy rejoinders, weighted conversations... and flirting. Lots of subtle, and some not-so-subtle flirting. 

Jimin could /see/ assignations being agreed to within body language, an affair begun in a married woman’s face..., and for him, more than a few offers to keep him occupied during the night from both women /and/ men.

Ignoring the murderous glances hidden within faked benevolent smiles in his direction, Jimin ignored the Kim girl in favor of the deliciously masculine corporate lawyer that had openly admired him.

Like many of his hook-ups, the man was tall, built, and oozed confidence and sexuality. 

Exactly the kind Jimin liked to dominate, making them beg and plead beneath him. Nothing was sweeter to his ears and ego.

He watched the man look in his direction again, and this time Jimin met his eyes with a smile. He tilted his head, knowing he looked completely desirable and sultry like this, and as expected, saw the stare intensify, this time with a minute head gesture to the doorway.

Jimin gave the merest hint of a nod, a small smirk twisting his lips, and excused himself to the two old boors he was speaking with.

Time to have some real fun.

As Jimin heard his name moaned for a second round, he could hear the thudding thrum of a helicopter that must be landing on the expansive grounds and briefly wondered at who it could be before he recollected himself and began thrusting again. 

He found himself wondering again at the unusual arrival as he stepped out of the shower.

Jimin had learned that if he was going to have these sexual escapades when his father was in the vicinity, it was necessary to be clean and ready for anything at ungodly hours of the morning. The man was like a bloodhound and had found him in some compromising situations, giving him an opportunity to humiliate his son in private afterwards. Jimin had learned to skip sleep in some cases to get rid of any evidence that could be held against him.

Like now.

The sun was barely making an appearance, giving an unearthly glowing mist to the grounds, heavy with moisture.

Jimin ran his hands through his silvery hair and pulled on a red (why not) cashmere jacket over his black turtleneck and shirt.

He thrust his hands in his pockets as he walked away from the manor, a rueful headshake at possibly ruining his costly Chelsea boots in the name of escape.

He spied a lake to one side of the back section of the property, and slowly made his way there, reflecting on how his behavior last night would impact the day.

Jimin ran hands through his hair again, wondering at how long he could live such a life, a life of intrigue and pandering... partying and using... all under the tutelage of his father.

He looked over the lake, feeling an unfamiliar despondency settled into his bones as surely as the damp mist was doing to his clothes.

There. He caught a slight movement from the corner of his eye.

Jimin hadn’t realized anyone else was out this early. He could see the figure of a man, almost lost in the folds of a camel duffel coat, seeing chestnut hair above the hood.

He silently stepped forward a few paces, hoping to catch enough of the other’s face to recognize the early riser.

Just as he opened his mouth to call out an affable greeting, the other man turned in profile, illuminated by the filtered mist of the grey light of morning.

Soft elf locks, slightly long, hung over intense dark eyes, an unusual cant to their shape, and the glint of a thick gold hoop at his ear. The sloping jawline underscored petal pink lips that pouted beneath a soft button nose. High cheekbones emphasized the almost feline cast of the man’s face, an expression of something unfamiliar to Jimin coloring the features. 

And just when Jimin was going to follow up on his intention to call out a greeting, intrigued, the other turned in his direction, intense, but soft, eyes lifting to meet his.

Jimin stared, the greeting dying before even forming in his mouth.

He was breathtaking.

Jimin found himself forgetting everything as he was caught by the searching gaze, the feline cast of his features even more apparent like this. 

He was beautiful. So beautiful.

They were caught in the moment, eyes meeting eyes, the world hushed around them.

“Hyung! Hey, hyung!”

Both turned in the direction of the voice and Jimin saw a tall man with an easy gate motioning at the man he’d been staring at. Just behind him was another person, tall, too, and just as broad-shouldered.

Jimin’s eyes moved to the smaller man that was still standing, who in turn turned his gaze back to Jimin, making Jimin catch his breath again as a gentle breeze of the air stirred the fringe over those magnetic eyes.

“Yah! Yoongi! Min Yoongi! I swear to god, if you’ve stayed up-“ 

Jimin didn’t hear the rest of the other man’s sentence as he mind reeled and tried to grasp what he’d heard.

Yoongi.

/Min/ Yoongi.

Min Yoongi.

Jimin stared as the other once again looked to him, this time a slightly searching gaze. 

He opened his mouth as if to say something-

“Christ, Yoongi!”

His head turned back to the others, and Jimin watched.

They had reached Min Yoongi, the tallest throwing his arms around the small form, encasing him in a firm, enveloping hug.

As soon as he was released, the other took him in his arms as well. Jimin caught sight of the pale face and sucked in a breath.

Min Yoongi wasn’t just beautiful... his face was now alight in a big, sudden gummy smile.

Entrancing, Jimin thought, he was absolutely... entrancing.

Feeling eyes upon him, he tore his away to look to the other’s companions.

The taller was looking at him a little grimly, while the other, who was amazingly good-looking, too, looked at him curiously.

“C’mon, hyung... we've been waiting for you...” 

Jimin felt a pitfall in his stomach as he watched the others lead /him/ away.

Just as he was about to turn, he saw Min Yoongi look back, eyes on his, a contemplative look, before turning back and continuing with the others.

Min Yoongi.

Jimin watched the three return to the house, arm in arm, the shortest in the middle. He could hear good-natured ribaldry and laughing.

He watched them disappear, feeling almost empty.

So.

That was the Min heir.

The man who he was supposed to see as a rival. 

Jimin turned back to the lake.

The weekend had just taken an unforeseen twist.

*****************


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this will be VASTLY shorter than Legato... so hopefully I’ll post often, and wrap this one up in a few more chapters!

________________

A little later, after Jimin had returned to the house and changed shoes, he was heading down to the great hall for the breakfast when he heard a familiar heavy tread behind him; he didn’t even have time to turn when a heavy hand grasped his arm to jerk him around.

“Where have you been?” His father was furious. 

Before he could answer, his father angrily dismissed his own question.

“That Min boy showed...” he gave a bitter laugh. “The only upside is that he’s just as undersized as /you/...”

Jimin shook his father off.

“Turns out he’s been hidden... sent to school under aliases...” Jung-Hwa’s face took an ugly cast. “Min Young-Min... apparently he is a far-seeing snake...”

Jimin ran fingers through his hair, hoping his father hadn’t mussed his style too much.

“The Kims’ /son/, Namjoon, has been attending the same schools...” his father clenched his fingers before calming himself.

“You... get close... see what he’s... ahem... /like/... “ he rounded in his son and heir. “Find out what you can... but keep the Kim girl strung along... in case... if you /can/...” his sneer was uglier than usual.

Jimin was about to retort when he saw his father’s dramatic transformation from homophobic dictator to benevolent, concerned father. 

Jimin turned.

There was a small woman with flawless alabaster skin, wavy blue-black hair pulled in a loose chignon, wearing an impeccable ensemble with designer heels. Her red lips were naturally pouted and feminine feline eyes looked them over before focusing on Jimin, dismissing his father completely. A small smile turned her lips up, looking /into/ Jimin as if she could read his soul, and then she was gone, a ghost of a comforting and exotic scent lingering behind her.

He heard his father release a breath but he couldn’t care less that his father had probably just had an emotional crisis.

That had to be /his/ mother... Min Yoongi’s mother.

He now understood his father’s regret. 

Completely.

He stepped away from the man to enter the large salon where the hosts had set up a buffet style breakfast, guests able to serve themselves from replenished platters.

Jimin smiled and bowed, greeting people accordingly, surreptitiously eyeing the different groups as he spoke to various acquaintances, the whole time desperately (though he would never admit that to himself) looking for a pair of triangular eyes under a chestnut blond fringe.

Holding a carefully chosen plate, just as he was about to seat himself next to the Kim girl, who was looking up at him expectantly, he heard a surprisingly deep voice speaking in English. He cocked his head, trying to spy the figure.

Min Yoongi.

He ignored the small sound of disappointment behind him as he edged closer to the voice that was as dark as coffee and felt a curl in his belly as he heard the hint of gravel in the deep tones.

“Hello, Park Jimin-ssi. Nice to see you.”

Jimin turned to greet the young man, but his face grew sharp when he saw who it was.

“Jeon Jeongguk.”

Jimin had met the younger man a year ago. Their fathers had been conducting business together in China and Jimin had thought to score an easy hookup. His surprise was obvious when the younger flatly turned him down without a single qualm. Jimin had at first thought he had misread the younger and guessed he was straight. It wasn’t until later he had heard through mutual acquaintances that the boy had been in a quiet long-term relationship for over a year.

The young man towered over him, making Jimin feel sour. Why was everyone so tall?

“Kookie! Yah!” Both looked over in surprise, but the younger’s face broke into a grin.

“Hyung!” Jimin looked on in almost jealous surprise as Jeongguk swept to where Min Yoongi stood, smiling a soft smile.

Did everyone know Min Yoongi aside from himself?

“Ah, hyung! I had no idea you were coming! Joon hyung kept it from me! Whaaa... this will be a much better time than I thought! Tae is here somewhere, as well! He just got back from America, too!”

America! Jimin reeled. Had they been hiding Min Yoongi in America?

His thoughts were brought back when he heard a low chuckle, and felt a flutter within his gut.

“Yes, I know. Joon, Jin hyung, and I ran into him this morning.” He turned his smiling eyes to Jimin, who inexplicably felt a flush rise from his neck to his ears. “Who’s this?”

Jeongguk (Kookie?!) turned to eye Jimin reluctantly. “Hyung, this is Park Jimin, Jimin-ssi, this is Min Yoongi.” 

As Jimin met the intense gaze, he knew the other had already known his identity. May have known this morning.

Jimin tried his easy, practiced smile... but it never came. All he had was a small, almost shy movement of his mouth, eyes softening as he realized Min Yoongi was regarding him as he had earlier... contemplatively.

“Min Yoongi-ssi... it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Jimin realized his mistake as one emphatic eyebrow raise in question.

Min Yoongi studied him gravely. Jimin realized they were eye-level with one another.

Why did that simple realization give him so much satisfaction?

“Hyung, hey! Let’s- ... oh.” The tall boy from earlier was back, who seemed taken aback to find him speaking with Min Yoongi. “So... you two have met.” Statement.

Jimin felt a light scowl make its way to his expression as Yoongi placed a light hand on the tall man’s arm.

“Yes, Joon,... Kookie was just introducing us.”

Yoongi turned back to Jimin, eyes lingering on the other’s plush lips before looking into his eyes, almost a challenge in their depths.

“We were going to find a quieter room to eat. Would you like to join us, Park Jimin-ssi?”

As his heart began to pound, Jimin missed the taller man’s blanched expression.

“I’d love to, Yoongi-ssi.” 

And Jimin realized those were the truest words he’d spoken in days.

And when he was on the receiving end of a soft smile, seeing the other tilt his head with approval in his eyes, Jimin knew he was in trouble. Even as electric waves ran along his veins, making him feel like a sweating virgin teen again, Jimin had to admit to unfamiliar emotions filling his chest, making it hard to breathe.

Anticipation.

Anxiety.

Apprehension.

Desire.

And a worrying compulsion to please this man, to win another approving smile.

When he felt a strong hand gently placed at his back, leading him along, Jimin felt the lick of desire in his groin from the simple contact.

As he left the room, he caught his father’s eyes, squinting at him, trying to discern what was happening.

For the first time in... a long, long time..., Jimin didn’t have a fucking clue.

And listening to the soft, but gravelly tones coming from pursed, petal pink lips, eyes intently locked on his, Jimin couldn’t help but have one thought to sum up the disturbing sensations that were so foreign to him...

/God,... I’m fucked./

*********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤️ Yoonmin
> 
> Thanks for reading! Drop kudos if you like it, and if you haven’t yet, check out my other fics... and find me on TWT @starry4yngi


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry no summaries... my chapters are too short, I think😬

***************

Jimin tried to be nonchalant as he ate from his plate, trying to figure out what he was doing here, noticing everyone getting along, sharing news of one another, but not truly paying attention to any of them... well, maybe being hyper-aware of one voice in particular, but was still surprised when a pair of chopsticks held something in front of his mouth.

He started, eyes wide, staring at the offering, then over to the triangular eyes that watched him.

Not breaking their locked gazes, he let the tip of his pink tongue dart out, mouth open, to swipe the slice of meat into his mouth.

He blushed as he felt the gaze increase in intensity.

“So, Park Jimin-ssi...” /Kim/ Namjoon, who Jimin had just found out was the son of his host, looked at him, puzzled. “You and hyung have never met?”

Jimin shook his head, aware of the intense gaze from the other man.

“Actually, I started to think he didn’t exist.” He meant to deliver the statement charmingly, but it came out much more plaintive than he’d ever wanted.

Again, Min Yoongi just stared.

Jimin was feeling intensely... uncomfortable... and intensely... aware... of the quiet man.

“I feel like we /should/ know each other.” Jimin joked, trying to be charming, pulling out his full-watt smile.

Yoongi just kept staring at him.

Okay, maybe there /was/ something wrong with this beautiful man.

Namjoon finally nudged the silent man. “Hyung.” He said, reprovingly.

Yoongi quirked his lips, relenting.

“We haven’t /met/-“

Jimin was denied what the other was about to say when the door was thrust open.

“Ah, here are all of the young men, my dear.” Jimin cringed inwardly while coolly regarding his father, keeping the smile on his face.

There was the Kim girl, being led straight to him, eyes widening as she spotted him.

“For shame, hiding away from all of the beautiful women! Jimin, you were raised better than that.” His father smiled benevolently upon them, seeming to glance around without direction, then feigned surprise.

“Ah, but here is one I have never met.” He approached Yoongi, almost patronizingly. “Ah, the Min boy. Hmmm,” he regarded him carefully, looking him up and down. “You look nothing like Young-Min.” He called Yoongi’s father casually, as if he had a right to. “Somewhat small, hmmm?”

Yoongi stared at the man, non-plussed. Jimin felt himself cringe inward... his father’s too-obvious pass at trying to openly insult the young man was heavy-handed, trumpeting conflict of a personal nature. He steeled himself for the Min to either take offense, or, he was afraid to see, if he was honest with himself, the young man back down in fear and intimidation.

Min Yoongi did neither.

Yoongi continued to stare, ignoring the tension-laden silence that crackled around them... then... as all eyes followed him... tilted his head to one side, still appraising the man before him,... still not one word spoken, eyes staring straight /into/ the blustery figure, an eerie echo of a woman’s same look earlier... but this one... this one seemed to weigh and find much wanting...

Jimin could feel his father’s confusion and rising rage, and inwardly quaked for the still quiet figure before them.

Suddenly, there was a sigh, and with the slightest shake of his head, Yoongi turned without a single word, completely dismissing a major industry figure as if he was nothing more than a bemusing spectacle.

“I’ve spent much of my time in school and traveling, Jimin ssi... I think we’ve rarely been in the same country at the same time.” 

Min Yoongi continued smoothly, while behind him, Jimin’s father had turned an unattractive ruddy hue, mouth agape, the lovely girl at his side looking both confused and concerned, looking to her brother for guidance.

Jimin shot a quick look to his father, whose rage was becoming all too-apparent; Jimin knew that if he didn’t get his father away from the other man, there would be murder, or, at the least, irrevocable words exchanged.

“I would like to hear more, Min Yoongi ssi, but I’m afraid I have a few obligations.” Jimin couldn’t hide the very real regret in his eyes, or the way his voice slightly hitched, damning himself. He bit his lush lower lip, for once not out of staged emotion. “Abeonim, let’s take this lovely lady back... I heard there is an amazing pastry chef’s creations to be sampled...”

Jimin crowded his father in such a way as to shield the beautiful Min Yoongi from his father’s baleful eyes.

Jimin felt the weight of many stares at his back, inwardly cursing his father... his life.

He didn’t see the growing sternness and concern take over one particular face, causing the other young men to look at one another in surprise.

As he escorted the young lady through to the entry of the great hall, he felt a painful grasp on his wrist, caging him just within the enormous room.

“Please, my dear, go through... I just need a moment with my son.” Jimin felt a sudden drop in his stomach... he recognized the nasty oil in his father’s voice.

As the girl smiled and charmingly nodded, making her way to the ladenbtables and engaging groupings of people, Jimin managed to return it, aware his father’s oily smile was hanging on his thick lips... but as soon as her back turned, he was yanked backward, almost losing his balance, and then felt a propelling shove into his back through a doorway... into a service hall.

As he caught his balance, he felt a hand fist into the back of his hair, steering him further down the hall.

“Abeonim, I didn’t-“

Suddenly his hair was released, only to be slammed up against the wall, the back of his head tanging with pain from the crack of it against the unforgiving surface.

“You fucking dog. Don’t you /ever/ put me in such a position again.” 

Jimin felt a hammy fist tighten around his windpipe.

“That fucking insignificant... that fucking /worthless/...” 

Jimin grinned to himself as he tried to save his breath... Min Yoongi had certainly gotten to his father.

“Abeonim... marks...” he choked out.

Park Jung-hwa stared down at his son, his lip curled into a sneer, then roughly released his son.

Jimin consciously kept his hands at his sides, his face impassive.

It was a good thing he had the turtleneck on... perhaps it would keep the bruising to a minimum... unlike last time.

His father had forgotten how much the paparazzi loved his son... and had been furious to have to endure the rumored innuendos of his son’s rough sexual proclivities as a cover...

It didn’t stop him from throwing a punch into his son’s abdomen.

“... embarrassing me... standing there like a bitch in heat, moon-eyed over that puny-“

Just as his father looked to be ready to come at him again, voices were heard, allowing Jimin to straighten up, recovering from the not-unexpected blow.

As he breathed shallowly, refusing to give his father the satisfaction of seeing him weak, his father curled his lip at him. “You find out all about that son of a bitch... and get your leg over that Kim girl... you fail... you’re fucking out, hear me? Everything stops... the money... the apartments... the cars... clothes... your ‘toys’...” Park Jung-hwa ran a hand through his hair, his version of pleasantry fixed on his face. “And if you fuck a man, the company better be getting something out of it... last night was your last freebie.”

His father moved away, plowing down the hall to rejoin the party, completely unbothered by the altercation with his son.

When Jimin could no longer see nor hear him, he allowed himself to gasp deeply, hunch over, hands on knees, pulling a face as he felt bruised ribs.

Jimin swallowed hard, throat burning, trying to breathe deeply through his nose.

He blinked hard.

He should be used to this... he /was/ used to this... but it still secretly decimated him... the complete lack of respect and regard his father had for him.

Jimin took in one more audibly shaky breath, trying to mentally map out the nearest restroom or path to his room to repair whatever damage his father had inflicted on his appearance.

“Park Jimin ssi, are you all right?”

Nerves tingled up the back of his spine and within his gut, hearing the low, but smooth, gravel of a particular voice.

Jimin abruptly stood, unprepared to meet face to face with none other than... Min Yoongi.

His eyes widened at being caught in such a vulnerable position, and he nervously licked his lower lip as his gaze was met with a surprisingly concerned one, the sharp triangular eyes softened in something he couldn’t put name to.

“Ah, Min Yoongi ssi... yes... I just... got a little warm... stayed up too late... I just... I wanted a moment to catch my breath.” Jimin mustered up a charming smile, the one that didn’t reflect in his eyes, and raised a hand to run through his hair, when he suddenly winced before he could completely cover for the pain in his side the action produced. Fucking abeonim.

His excuses were met with a concerned gaze, quiet, as Min Yoongi had been throughout their meeting.

“Jimin ssi... please...”

Jimin stared at the hand that gestured down the opposite end of the hall from where his father had disappeared. 

He met the soft look, matching the soft voice, ready to laugh and jest this embarrassing debacle away, but lost his thoughts in taking in the beautiful, concerned face... concerned... for /him/?... and again, Jimin felt his breath catch, a flip in his stomach.

Soft brown eyes met darker ones, and Jimin nodded, almost brusquely, taking in a slow breath before exhaling, just as slowly.

The young man with the soft chestnut blond hair once again put a gentle, steering hand to the small of Jimin’s back, causing him to internally shiver at the almost intimate touch.

Jimin let himself be led wordlessly down the long corridor, vaguely hearing various noises and voices from behind closed doors and long connecting walkways, before finding himself going up a few flights of stairs.

As they walked down a carpeted hall, Jimin recognized the way to his room.

Jimin stopped in front of his door, unsure of what he was supposed to say... supposed to do.

Jimin was /never/ unsure of what he was supposed to say... or /do/.

“Ah... thank you, Yoongi ssi... I, ah... I wanted... was trying to find a place to just ... but, well... um...” Jimin inwardly writhed at his clumsiness, too aware of the eyes on him... no amusement in them... just... concern?... and...

“I hope to see you again, Jimin ssi... perhaps... the cocktail reception before dinner?”

Jimin met the eyes staring steadily into his, unable to resist taking in the sloped jawline, the slanted cheekbones... and those mesmerizing canted eyes... and nodded dumbly, finding, to his horror, a warmth again rising in his cheeks.

Park Jimin... societal darling and the highly desired untouchable was /blushing/ from a single look from this quiet, self-possessed man.

He was about to turn when the other took one step closer, looking searchingly into his now-flaming face, then nodded, as if to himself, eyes having quickly scanned the blushing face before him.

Yoongi smiled gently, almost sadly, then stepped back, and turned, quietly leaving Jimin alone, going in a different direction than from where they’d come.

Jimin let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He turned and opened his door, stepping into his room, closing the door behind him, pressing his back to it, heart thudding within the confines of his chest.

What the fuck just happened?

He heaved a sigh, then winced at the pain...

Jimin quickly strode through the lavish room and looked into the mirror in his en suite bathroom... and blanched.

The cloth at the neck of his shirt was ruched, obviously by some kind of grip, his hair disheveled from when he’d bent in half from the hit, his make up smeared from the slight sheen of held-back tears, from pain or still-surprising humiliation...

He had seen him like this.

Min Yoongi had seen what was obviously the result of a confrontation...

He glared at his reflection, feeling a hotness in his eyes again, as another kind of humiliation began to teethe at his core.

He flipped his shirt off, mentally going through his wardrobe here as he tried /not/ to think about canted eyes, white skin,... slightly too-long blonde fringe... and the gentle concern he could see and /feel/...

Jimin eyed himself in the mirror again, thinking of his father’s demands... thinking of Min Yoongi... and for the first time in his life... felt something like despair.

**********************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you’re dropping kudos if you’re enjoying, and if you’ve already done that, drop some comments... I’d love to know your thoughts!
> 
> Find me on TWT @starry4yngi loving Yoonmin and check out my other fics, especially if you’re looking for a long loooooooonnngg read🤣🤣🤣🙈🙊 - Legato - still ongoing, while Revere (much shorter) is complete🐥🐱🐥🐱🐥🐱🐥🐱👉🏻👈🏻👉🏻👈🏻👉🏻👈🏻


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy...
> 
> Not sure how to tag...
> 
> PLEASE NOTE:
> 
> DUBIOUS CONSENT  
> PHYSICAL ABUSE/MANHANDLING  
> EXPLICIT CONTENT  
> ROUGH SEXUAL ACTIVITIES  
> FELLATIO  
> CUM SWALLOWING  
> ANGST  
> Implied slut shaming
> 
> so... this got away from me a little... I’m sorry, but you know I’ll get them to a good place eventually... and this is probably half over, if not more...

**********************

Jimin woke to a darkened room.

After his for-Min-Yoongi-only humiliation, he called it in for the day, tossing his pants off and reached for soft silk pajama bottoms, then threw himself in bed, after locking his door.

If he was going to be dealing with his father’s insidious machinations /and/ the imperturbable and hot question mark that was Min Yoongi, he was going to indulge in some much-needed rest.

He had promptly passed out as soon as he closed his eyes, refusing to entertain further thoughts of chestnut blond hair and a growly, purred voice...

But now... 

He stared up at the ceiling, thinking of what was to come.

Jimin grabbed his phone, gingerly touching his abdomen.

Cocktails started at seven, giving everyone a good two hours of drinking and networking before dinner.

He had about an hour to get ready, if he wanted to be on time.

Jimin was conscientiously rarely on time for anything... it was a trademark of his to make an entrance, never mind it irritated his father. Hostesses loved him for it, causing a ripple of energy when he did show...

But.

Chestnut fringe and dark eyes in his mind made him sit up, swinging his feet to the floor.

He scarcely glanced at all of the texts Chanyeol had been leaving, thinking about tonight... and if he was honest with himself, felt something very akin to the flutterings of anticipation in his belly, thinking about the low voice and the soft question he’d been posed. 

Before he could step into the bathroom, there was a furtive knock at his door.

Knowing such a timid noise could never be his father, he was bemusedly wondering who it could be as he answered aloud and unlocked the door, gently opening it.

“Eomma?”

Jimin looked at his mother, a small and somewhat softened figure, her face pulled into its habitual expression of vague anxiety.

“Oh, Jimin, I’m sorry to disturb you-“

Jimin opened the door widely stepping back, ushering his mother in.

She gave him no chance to speak. “Oh, my son, whatever you do, please... please don’t cross /him/... your... your father... he’s /so/ angry...” she wrung her hands, distressed, turning luminous eyes upon her son. “He’s been... he hasn’t stopped drinking today... not that he can’t handle his... but... please, just go along with whatever he asks this evening?... try to help him calm down?... he’s-“

“/Eomma/...” Jimin stared at his mother. 

She had the grace to not face her son. She bit at her lower lip. “He’s completely unreasonable, Jimin... he... he’s been /so/ angry...”

Jimin stared at his mother, a pitfall in his gut.

Jin Ae wasn’t a /weak/ woman... Jimin had heard enough gossip to know his mother had been someone that drew people to her without trying... educated, attractive, from a wealthy family,... with a charm that dazzled many... until she’d married, unexpectedly, to his father. 

Jimin supposed his father had worn away any shine she had, likening her to tarnished silver... and he hated that it was probably truth.

“And... Iseul’s son... try to not... well,” Jin Ae looked away, then met his eyes. “You’re father... he hates him...” She looked nervously around. “He can’t stand even the thought of him... I think... I think he was hoping there was something /wrong/ with him...” 

“There’s not.” Jimin said softly.

His mother looked to him, shrewdly. “There is... he’s Min Young-Min’s /son/.” And before Jimin could decipher the odd look on his mother’s face, it was gone, replaced by her more habitual, vacantly sad expression.

“Just... do as your father says, Jimin. There’s... trouble... if he can’t land the Kims... He’s counting on you.” She walked over, slowly patting his arm, blindly looking at his floor, then let herself out of her son’s room.

Jimin watched the door close, feeling an unfortunately familiar stab of disappointment,... abandonment... in his heart, once again.

He faced himself in the mirror, seeing no lasting marks on his throat or abdomen.

Min Yoongi or not, he had work to do.

So, when the smart, chic figure, in a perfectly cut modern suit, with a midnight blue silk shirt setting off his perfectly styled hair, could be seen gliding into the reception room forty-five minutes late, there was more than a few attendees that took notice of the silver-haired, graceful figure.

“Ah, I see my son has been able to finally join us...” Park Jung-hwa latched on to his son’s arm, towing him next to a florid, stern faced man and a very slim, petite young one that had to barely be of age. “Jimin,... this is the CEO of the company that just issued the IPOs I’ve been speaking of...”

Jimin bowed correctly to the man who was a few inches taller than he was. “An honor, sir... my father has spoken so very highly of your company.”

As the younger man simpered, the CEO raised an eyebrow at Jimin, not bothering to hide his stare, raking his eyes up and down Jimin’s figure, taking in the perfected touches of make up, the lush mouth highlighted with a little gloss, and there grew an unattractive gleam in the hooded eyes. “Ah... well, I’m afraid Jung-hwa hasn’t spoken /enough/ about his son...”

Jimin could feel a weight at the pit of his stomach as he held his smile, even as thick lips were wetted by a wide, short tongue.

“Well, sir, I’d be pleased to tell you anything you’d like to know...” he said, pitching a forced gleam into his own gaze, feeling the excruciating crush of thick fingers into his bicep, his father’s hand still imprisoning him, reminding him of their altercation... of his threats... of his mother”s words...

The thick figure unceremoniously shoved his companion away forcefully. “Go get something to eat, Sungwoon. I’ll see you later.”

The young man held his smile in place, eyes sharp, bowing to the company, before slipping away into the milling crowd without a word.

The man’s eyes lit up. “Ah, Jimin... why don’t we get you a drink and... get to know one another...”

As his father ungently pushed him toward the other man, Jimin met his father’s eyes.

“The pretty little Kim girl found a companion in your absence...” Jimin followed his look, seeing the attractive girl with a taller, very good-looking young man, with a mega-watt smile and kind eyes, who seemed to be enthusiastically relating a story as she seemed to hang on his every word, two small hands around his forearm.

Fuck.

That’s why he was being pushed on to this disgusting lump of a human being.

Who apparently had some influence or business his father desperately wanted. 

“That sounds lovely, sir. Can you tell me a little more about the man who has raised a modest company to such prestigious heights?” Jimin allowed himself to be steered away, misgivings growing as he saw an anticipatory hunger in the older man’s eyes as he placed his squared hand on Jimin’s lower back, shocking his system, wanting to shake him off, to keep him from touching the exact place that Min Yoongi... better not to think of that.

As Jimin accepted a too-full cocktail, and he’d bet there was more alcohol than mixer by five to one, he let his eyes flick around the room, scanning for a particular face... and tried to be relieved rather than disappointed when he didn’t see slightly overlong chestnut blond hair.

And as the night wore on, and he continued to endure the overeager attentions of the gross man steering him around, causing him to miss dinner, keeping him at his side with the heavier drinkers, the hard hitters that came not to fund a charity, but to corner other business associates or potential associates and get private agendas accomplished.

So he started to become numb, an easy enough feat, considering the number and the strength of the alcohol being pushed on him, not to mention the lack of food.

As had often happened before, Jimin let his mind detach, not wanting to consciously be aware of what this man was saying... doing... until he found himself being pushed against the stone wall of the terrace outside, thick lips working at his own glossed mouth, feeling slick saliva, not his own, leaking down his chin, tasting cigar and cognac, feeling a hand grope at his crotch, the other gripping his hair, tilting his head up.

“Ahhhh... so Jung-hwa really wants the meeting, eh...” the thick breath hung in front of his mouth, hearing the self-satisfied leer.

“Ahhhh, sahjangnim... you must promise to give him what he wants...” Jimin breathed heavily back, exaggerating his inhales and exhales, letting the other mistake it for gasping desire. “Or...” and he began to pull away.

A smug wash came over the older man, reaching for Jimin’s hand and using it to slowly rub at his already pronounced erection. “Ah,... I see... your father uses-“ he cut himself off, staring at Jimin’s swollen mouth. “Next week...” and seeing Jimin’s look, “He’ll have his meeting this week... Tuesday, nine am in my office.”

And as Jimin began to nod, he was pulled heavily against the other. “But now... now you must convince me to keep it.” And crashed his lips on the inviting plushness, forcing it open to thrust his tongue into the sweetness of the younger’s again and again, slipping Jimin’s small hand down the front of his pants, making him touch the sweaty, small, but thick member he had.

Jimin blanked his mind, not thinking of what this was.

He didn’t think about how his evening could have gone.

He didn’t think about a low voice and soft pout, soft eyes locked on his.

He didn’t think about the glances and kindness... and... something-

Jimin felt his zipper being undone and was shocked to feel a wet warmth around his soft cock, trying to be teased into waking.

He was surprised into motionlessness. He’d never been involved in this kind of thing where they could so easily be seen... which told him this man had power... to be unafraid of being caught in such compromising circumstances.

As the sucking and jerking of his cock began to feel worse, he heard mindless apologies tumble from his mouth... he was too drunk... maybe they shouldn’t... 

Jimin was having deep qualms, his guilt assaulting him in a way it hadn’t since the early days of ‘helping’ his father out... he was changing his mind... his father could go fuck-

He heard a little snarl, then found himself being pushed to his knees, as the older man straightened, then, one hand clenched in his hair, the other feeding the short, thick, /musky/ cock between his lips, into his own wet mouth.

“No you don’t, little Jimin... you want your father to be proud of you and get that meeting?... you’re going to have to /earn/ it...” and began fucking into Jimin’s mouth, the protruding belly hitting into his face, his head being jerked back forth to work it around the cock stretching his mouth.

Jimin’s mind went numb, though this wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened.

He breathed heavily through his nose as he could, trying to tune out the hoarse grunts of the man above him... and felt only relief when he felt hot strands shoot into the back of his throat, unable to stop the gag at the overwhelmingly bitter tang that painted his mouth.

His head was jerked away, and he felt gloating eyes range over his tear-filled ones, unable to help the reaction from his gag reflex. “Ah, Jimin... we’ve only begun. I’m in the east wing, the lotus suite... a staff member will show you there...” he straightened up and zipped himself in. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes.” His tone brooked no refusal. He wiped at his sweaty, florid face with a handkerchief from his own pocket, a lingering, gut-churning smile at Jimin’s face, then, stowing the cloth in his pocket, abruptly turned, striding away, clearing his throat.

Jimin slowly stood, his back pressing against stone for leverage, tucking himself back in and zipping up, trying to steel himself for the wretchedness ahead of him, when he heard a soft sound. 

Jimin turned to the right, and saw to his infinite shock and horror, none other than Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon.

His mind stuttered at the sight of the Min heir, eyes going wide... there was no softness to his look now. 

The chestnut fringe had been hiding an undercut, the top length now styled up and back, held in a commanding sweep that looked darker with hair product, sporting the subtlest of eye makeup... the blonde had an edgy, almost dangerous look, enhanced by a perfectly tailored designer suit.

No wonder he hadn’t seen him, recognized him. He had a completely different, commanding aura.

His mind barely registered Kim Namjoon’s shocked and disgusted stare beside him.

Jimin could only take in the shorter of the two, but the one that seemed to loom so much larger in his mind and vision.

Dark, canted eyes stared at him impassively, even as his own mouth worked... to say what, he had no clue.

And thought left him as the Min Yoongi stepped toward him, holding something out to him.

Jimin looked down.

It was a square of white silk.

Meeting his eyes unselfconsciously, a long, white fingered hand gestured to the corner of his own mouth, and understanding came over him.

Jimin was standing in front of Min Yoongi with swollen, abused wet lips, mouth and chin messy with someone else’s spit... and someone’s else’s cum.

And Jimin knew they’d seen... that these two, two that were so like him, yet so /unlike/ him, had seen him... the work he did for his father... how he had to negotiate for the head of the Park family-

“You don’t have to...”

Jimin blinked, staring, uncomprehending for a moment.

“You don’t have to do this.” The voice said, more firmly, almost coaxingly.

Jimin took the offered pocket square, raised it to his mouth, wiping harshly, unable to hide the darkness in his eyes, and let loose a nasty smile and brief laugh. “Yeah? You think I make that call?”

And stared straight into those sharp yet gentle eyes, because he’d hate himself if he didn’t.

Min Yoongi met his look, nothing of condemnation or disgust in his expression, unlike the man next to him. He just stepped forward again, gingerly taking the silk square from an unresisting hand, and gently, oh so gently, touched a clean part of it to under his right eye, then left, Jimin astonished to find he was leaking tears... and a last dab at something on the other corner of his mouth he must have missed, making him burn in shame.

Yoongi looked at him once more, a sadness... and something /else/... in his eyes, as Jimin finally slid his own gaze away, and watched the taller figure now tow the smaller away, nothing about it echoing his own experience a few minutes past.p, hurrying them quickly away from the figure in the shadows of the terrace.

“Hyung... /told/ you... don’t know why you...” 

Jimin could hear Kim Namjoon apparently berating the other for... for /something/ concerning one Park Jimin, but Jimin told himself he didn’t care.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to decide which door to use to reenter without causing notice, and saw the shorter figure forcefully flick the white cloth into a bin where the cigar smokers had been throwing their burned out ends.

Jimin grimaced, feeling the soreness of his lips, and willing himself to look pulled together, began to stride back in to the entrance, remembering everyone was at the dinner and most likely dancing.

He had to get to the lotus suite.

And not all that many hours later, having to avoid the lawyer from the night before, who was eager to continue their acquaintance, he left a room that was far from his own, his legs shaking from dealing with an unusually corpulent individual, wanting to scrub every inch of himself in a hot shower. 

And as he made his tired way back, he again tried to push thoughts of sharp, canted eyes, smoldering with some message...

As Jimin got to his room door, he was surprised to see a waiter’s cart with covered salvers set upon it, as well as assorted beverages. 

There was a card with just his name on it.

He opened the door to his room, pushing the cart in, and after closing and locking the door, lifted the cloches that covered a few of the dishes, finding a comforting meal, fruits, delicate breads, and dessert beneath them.

Jimin stared uncomprehendingly at the food.

Who had thought enough of him to be sure he ate? Who had noted his absence at dinner, and was concerned enough to be prompted to such thoughtfulness?...

His parents?... he dismissed immediately.

His mother would be turning a blind eye and his father would never... and he just left the fat man passed out...

Jimin bit his much-abused lower lip.

There was only one that came to mind,... one name that refused to be dismissed,

Min Yoongi.

Jimin stared at the food before him, more aware than ever of the burn in his belly, not just of hunger, the stickiness in his pants,... the soreness of his mouth and the echoing pain of his scalp. The marks he knew that were littered on his neck, abs, thighs seared, his nipples swollen and sore.

He undressed slowly, throwing his clothes from him distastefully, unaware of his silent resolution to throw every piece he’d worn into the trash... then trudged into his shower, water so hot his skin rouged, not just from the scrape of the rough, pebbled exfoliating cloth.

He cleaned himself as thoroughly as he could, gargling soapy water to flush out his mouth, finding grim satisfaction in the floral taste, spitting out even the memory of the bellicose man he’d... serviced.

For his father. For their company.

He sat on the large bed, sinking into the softness, wrapped in a fluffy towel, his /body/ completely clean, at least, staring at the cart before him.

Jimin raised a hand, reaching for the light-as-air slice of sponge bread, tasting the slight sweetness of it, his eyes staring, unseeing, but finding something... /something/... of comfort, at the thought of a certain person concerned about him, concerned about his welfare...

“You don’t have to do this...” dark eyes, furrowed brow... soft, pouted pink lips.

He refused to let the moistness in his eyes well as he took another bite, the simple cake seemingly a symbol of a small kindle of light even in the thick darkness of his beaten-back shame and loathing...

***********************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry🥺
> 
> Anyway, drop comments or kudos if you got through this without wanting to kill me or never to read my stuff again😶😳😖
> 
> Find me on Twt @starry4yngi
> 
> Check out my HUGE BUS of a fic, Legato, and or my completed 3 chapter shortie, Revere.
> 
> I welcome all comments and thoughts... seriously, please drop and share.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoonmin have another run-in
> 
> And Jimin’s father is still an atrocity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!...
> 
> Hope you enjoy...

***********************************

Jimin tripped lightly down the stairs, looking at his watch.

With luck, he was early enough to miss the grand brunch that was to be the send-off for the estate charity weekend. 

Thank god it was over.

The Kim girl was a wash... but he’d managed to get something in place for his father, ergo, the company.

Now... he just needed to skate out with as little attention as possible. He wanted as little fanfare as could be managed. Jimin knew it looked a little odd that he’d been toted around by the prominent businessman all night, only to disappear for dinner and the rest of the evening. He grimaced on the inside, but never let the pleasant smile drop from his face, seeing staff and occasional guests preparing for the day.

He’d caught one of the hired porters to take down all of his luggage, and carried only a deceptively simple, designer leather satchel.

As Jimin entered the foyer... to the front exit... the Kims were up, of course they were, to see the early risers off.

“Ah, Park Jimin ssi... it was lovely to have you... but... leaving already?...” the woman asked solicitously as her husband eyed the immaculately groomed young man.

“Thank you for the lovely weekend,... I hope it was all as successful as you’d hoped...” Jimin bowed low to both of them, ignoring the feeling of a searching look from the tall, grave man.

“Thank you, I believe it was, yes... safe travels...” The older man looked at him, his face serious.

Jimin walked away, back erect, head high, straight out the front doors.

He looked around... there were only a few cars...

“Park Jimin ssi... I’m here to take you to your flight...”

Jimin had opted to take an early ride to their private plane, figuring he’d rather sleep in privacy and solitude, after being informed, near dawn, that his parents had departed immediately after the dinner and silent auction announcements last night... while he was otherwise... engaged.

As Jimin’s Chelseas snapped across the drive, he heard the ribcage-thumping of a helicopter start up.

Without thinking, he swung his eyes over to the side of the estate, across the wide expanse of grounds, to the left of a small folly (presumptuous, he thought) and saw the sleek helicopter, blades already in motion, as well as three figures making their way to it.

Jimin found himself abruptly drawing up to a stop, seeing a pale face turn in his direction after having boarded.

He saw the head nod, perhaps in answer to some instruction... saw headphones being pulled on... but he didn’t consciously note those details. 

Jimin was held in place by dark canted eyes fixed on him, and he thought he could almost imagine... eye contact?... Jimin just watched, imagining the Min heir probably congratulating himself that he hadn’t made their rendezvous... but... whatever... he was about to shake his head, telling himself he didn’t care, that he was delusional in thinking that the other could even see him, when he saw a long-fingered hand held up... face pointed at him...

Jimin didn’t acknowledge the other.

But he stood, watching Min Yoongi, until the helicopter rose, so he could no longer see the other’s face.

And stood, continuing to watch it until he could no longer discern the speck it became.

“Park Jimin ssi?”

Jimin jolted out of his stillness, inadvertently sucked into his own thoughts, and shot a smile to the driver. “Oh, of course... Let’s go.”

Jimin was beyond ready to put this weekend behind him.

________________

A few days later, Jimin heard his father had managed to nail down a lucrative deal with the CEO... he’d heard through his sources... a few key people he stayed in contact with within the board, who relied on him for oversight on some of the business paperwork on new business... but even now, a few weeks afterwards, he had no desire to see his father as of yet.

“Babe?”

Jimin didn’t bother to look at his still-paramour Chanyeol, who was slowly running his hands up and down Jimin’s bare chest in his king sized bed within his high rise suite, overlooking the city, a gorgeous urban vista from the bedroom window.

Since he’d left the charity weekend, Jimin had immersed himself fully into his usual life... parties, functions, networking, seeing and being seen... 

... but...

Something changed.

Something was different.

He was different.

He couldn’t find it within himself to mix sex with business right now... he was ghosting his father even now, knowing the man only tried to reach out to him when he needed Jimin to again... ‘smooth over’ a business deal... lock in a client... woo or seduce a daughter... a societal hostess...

As much as he didn’t want to think about it, knowing that Kim Namjoon and, especially, Min Yoongi had seen him at his work... he kept pushing the memory away, trying to suppress it, though it would come out of nowhere to replay in his head,... feeling the wetness of his mouth, his chin,... the sting of a grip in his hair... the look of revulsion on Kim Namjoon... and the gentle wiping from Min Yoongi... which was even worse in so many ways than the look on the other’s face.

He knew... Jimin /knew/ those two had never had to compromise themselves in any way even /close/ to what was expected of him repeatedly... that their fathers’ would probably rather lose their wealth than put them in such a position... and as much as he may have tried to deride their naïveté, he hated them for it.

Yes.

Park Jimin hated Min Yoongi.

Another Park hated another Min.

Or so he told himself.

It was almost two months after his compromising weekend that he saw his father again, this time at a new couture house opening show.

Jimin had had no idea his father was present until he felt a familiar, meaty grip dig into his arm joint. “Ah, Abeonim... I wasn’t expecting to see you here...”

His father smiled in his oily way. “Of that, I have no doubt...”

Jimin felt his confidence folding as his father’s eyes seemed to weigh and tally his appearance.

“I need you... now.”

Jimin was taken aback... his father, though speaking to him often harshly, often directly,... often threateningly... had never sounded so /bald/.

“Come with me.” Jung-hwa said curtly, pulling his son along, before Jimin could begin to form sincere and insincere apologies to his societal companions.

“Abeo-“

“Shut up!” Jung-hwa hissed, still pinching his joint, trying to not look as if he was dragging his son about.

“That fucking... Min /Yoongi/ is here... he’s been... that fucking /dog/!...” 

Jimin abruptly wiped his face of expression.

He hadn’t seen Min Yoongi /at all/, not since the last sight of him in the helicopter from that unfortunate weekend. 

... but, since then... /all/ he /heard/... was... /about/ Min Yoongi...

The triumphant /heir/... the young man who was taking the social /and/ business scene /by storm/...

Absolutely /everyone/ was talking about the young man, endless accomplishments to his name, taking on multiple roles and admirably accomplishing so much, so young... and /so/ eligible... mothers were slavering to get their daughters in front of the beautiful, albeit /small/ young man... though, not terribly short...

Jimin unconsciously licked his lips. “So?”

Jung-hwa looked to him in rage. “So? That’s it?”

Jimin breathed out. “Why are you /here/? This is a fashion-“

His father whispered furiously. “I’ve /heard/ things about that boy... heard... he may be /like you/...”

Jimin stiffened, though his heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his throat.

“... I want you to get close... maybe get him in a compromising... situation... get pictures... audio... /video/ would be-“

“No.”

Park Jung-hwa stared at his son. “What did you just say to me?” He intoned, and it was... dangerous,... oh-so-quiet.

Jimin didn’t hesitate. “No. Whatever you’re thinking... no.”

Jimin steeled himself. The eager venom, already almost gloating, in his father’s voice twisted something in his gut.

He could see his father’s mounting rage as he saw the effects of his dissent... saw it in the hardened hold of his jaw, the vein now visible on his forehead, the hard, obsidian glint of his eyes... felt it in the punishing vise-grip on his arm...

“You will do as you’re /told/... or I will cut you off... of everything... right now... right here.”

The menacing low tone made Jimin shrivel inside... but he knew... he /knew/ he couldn’t... Min Yoongi wasn’t that stupid... or that interested... and Jimin...

“Park Jimin ssi?”

Fuck.

Two months.

It was him.

Jimin swung his eyes over, letting his familiar, charming grin slide in place, steeling himself for a little witty repartee and a swift, graceful exit.

But,... 

Min Yoongi had other plans.

The artfully tousled blond hair... soft pink curved lips, the dark eyes, dark but so very different than his father’s...

“Ah, Min Yoongi ssi,” Jimin gave his a brief bow, feeling his father’s grip unlock from his arm. “I didn’t know you were interested in fashion?”

Jimin felt the other’s eyes soften in amusement. “Is that a tactful way of telling me I have no fashion taste?”

Jimin’s mouth dropped open in flustered denial. “Oh, ah... ha ha... no, not at all, Min Yoongi ssi,... that’s not what I - why would you even-“

Min Yoongi’s eyes creased in amusement as his mouth bared into a gummy grin, enjoying the other’s confusion, reveling in his intentional misunderstanding.

“Ah... Min Yoongi...” Jimin’s father cut through the pleasant moment like a rock thrown at at mirror. “So you like clothes, too? You and Jimin seem to have /many/ things in common. Perhaps you should get to... /know/ one another better...”

Jimin felt his bile roil, seeing the avid gleam in his father’s eyes, the insinuous meaning from his tone glaringly apparent.

Jimin burned in shame. He didn’t know how his father dared to say such things... how he became so successful in handling the family business with such tactless manners... then realized he never really saw his father in such roles... he was always brought in /after/... to lock in deals... and he would meet with others in the business, reviewing the /results/ of his father’s dealings, not the processes. But it was the Mins... having the Mins in such close proximity... it made him harried, rushing to find a way to get at them, undermine them...

Jimin straightened his back, throwing his shoulders up, refusing to look small in front of the other young man, in front of his father.

Min Yoongi paused from his smiling at the son to look at the father, smile blanked.

And once again, the chestnut blond stood there, simply staring at the older man, not disrespectfully, not threateningly... just... stared.

Jimin nervously licked his lower lip as he could see the poorly masked leer begin to drop from his father’s thick lips. Jimin could see the thick brow begin to lower, his lip now curling in anger and ready to spout- “You-“

“Min Yoongi ssi... perhaps you’d like to get a glass of champagne?... there are a few minutes before they’ll ask us to find our seats...” Jimin tried to ignore the convulsive grip on his arm, his father’s rage almost palpable.

The other’s eyes found the thick fingers digging into the silk clad arm, and for the first time, a dark glint came into those canted eyes. Jimin could see the determined small chin harden, could see the soft mouth firm into a straight line, an almost imperceptible widening of the delicate nostrils.

A single nod, not looking at Jimin. A single nod as those eyes met those of his father, and Jimin stepped away from his father, forcing the man to release him, or make others aware that he had hands on his son.

“Abeonim, I’m sure you have so many associates to speak with here... thank you for the news you shared... I will wait to hear from you...” Jimin offered up, smiling charmingly, as if he wasn’t about to throw up from the tension his father was emitting.

“Jimin.” His father just looked dark... dark of feature, dark of eyes, dark of heart. 

Jimin held his smile in place as he lightly gestured to the direction of the champagne bar. “Shall we?” And tried to ignore the weighted stare his father tried to communicate to him as Min Yoongi turned from Park Jung-hwa, his face seemingly blank, walking by the other Park’s side.

As they made their way through the milling crowd, Jimin could feel his heart beating quickly, unsure of what to say. 

He was never unsure of what to say.

He was never unsure of what to say unless Min Yoongi was present.

It’s just that he’d thought of Min Yoongi... or rather, tried not to think overmuch of Min Yoongi... and to have run into him finally... and with his father and his heavy-handed manipulation and insinuation...

“Is this a race?”

Jimin brought himself up abruptly. “What?”

He looked over to see Min Yoongi with a small, amused smile, and his breath caught. 

There was just something about Min Yoongi.

The intelligence that was obvious in his eyes, the unexpected softness - an almost tenderness - in his pursed lips, the gently tousled hair, the slope of his cheeks, the allure of the tilt of his eyes... the quiet presence from broad shoulders, though he seemed almost of the same size of Jimin,... he made Jimin feel small... but not the way his father made him feel small...

“Park Jimin ssi...” 

Jimin realized that he’d been staring, standing and staring at Min Yoongi, and had to have a gentle prompt to get him going again.

“Ah, sorry, Min Yoongi ssi... I was just thinking of... well, my apologies, we can-“

“Jimin!!!”

Jimin turned as he saw Chanyeol reach out to wrap him in his arms. “You left me... come on, we have to get to our seats... everyone’s asking where you are...”

The too-pretty young man turned eyes to Yoongi, sizing him up, not dismissing him, by placing Jimin’s arm around himself, eyes raised in challenge, chin tilted up.

Before Jimin could register the other’s unusual possessive behavior, which he finds distasteful, Min Yoongi was giving Jimin a quick nod. “Maybe another time, Jimin ssi.” And smiling amusedly at the newcomer, Min Yoongi walked away.

Min Yoongi walked away.

He gently shoved the other away from himself. “What was that, asshole?”

Chanyeol pouted at him. “Jimin, you left me! And did you know, your father is here? Brrrr... he looks meaner than usual...”

Jimin watched the direction in which Min Yoongi had disappeared.

“-and then I was stuck with two drinks and nowhere to sit! Are you listening, Jimin? Jimin?”

Jimin looked to the young man claiming his attention.

“Stop. And let’s go.”

Jimin steered himself through to his area of seating, rueful of the last ten minutes of his life. 

What the fuck was his father thinking? Did he really think he could get Jimin to seduce Min Yoongi... to catch him in compromising positions? 

And Jimin thought about what had just happened. His father /hated/ Min Young-min... had raised Jimin to hate him and his son, Yoongi... to view the other heir as a threat, as an enemy... and now he was ready to throw Jimin at him, to seduce him in the most intimate of ways, just to strike blows at his own enemies...

“Jimin! So happy to see you here, darling... have you seen the shoes for the new collection?... I saw a pair I know you’d /die/ for-“

Jimin put on his full-watt smile, falling back on his charming and charmed demeanor, ready to play his part, but unable to completely ignore the altercation with his father... his father was resorting to threatening dispossession more and more frequently... it was a dark shadow lurking over him, making him wonder why now... he’d spent much of his time after school, and some distasteful episodes during, negotiating the deals for his father, the company, with his body, his company... as if his father thought that all he was capable of, though Jimin had performed admirably in classes and his internships in the various branches of his father’s businesses. But his father... this is how he chose to utilize his son.

As the runway started, Jimin brought his thoughts back to his present, and maybe tried to unobtrusively look around, trying to find chestnut blond hair and canted eyes...

... and saw him seated next to a famous American actress and an established British designer, speaking fluently, apparently, while an exotic-looking young woman watched him avidly, seeming eager to catch his attention as well. 

Jimin sat back, determined to shine as he flirted with his group, delighting them with his sparkling interactions, careful to /not/ look to the other again, his bubbling laughter pealing out gently amongst the noise of the crowd, causing more than a few heads to turn smilingly his way.

And, perhaps throughout the show, he may have been hyperaware of himself, canting his head, making graceful gestures, making sure he exuded confidence and allure, captivating his own little audience... and perhaps anyone else that may have been looking his way...

And, after the show, when Jimin found himself with his fashion “set”, trying to actively discuss the fashions, what might be appropriate for themselves, what influences might have street flair, he may actually have been once again looking for...

... he heard chortling and a buzz of conversation nearby. Looking over, Jimin once more saw Min Yoongi, still with the British designer, but now with a new group, seeming to be keeping them amused... speaking French?...

Jimin watched the eyes crease, the head nod thoughtfully, a comment made... oh my god, his voice seemed to pitch even lower when he spoke with an incredibly convincing French accent.

Suddenly, he realized that those eyes were trained on him, looking at him looking back. He flushed, looking away,... but not before he saw a smilingly questioning gaze.

Jimin let himself be reeled back into their own conversations, then Chanyeol began pouting...

“Everyone is heading out for the late dinner, Jimin,... let’s go... I want to-“

“Min Yoongi ssi?” Jimin didn’t even realize he had interrupted His companion, his eyes having been on the small group close to them, and couldn’t help but call out, seeing the man that was taking too much of his thoughts walking right by. Chanyeol abruptly stopped speaking, looking irritatingly at the interloper.

Min Yoongi came to a stop, his companions stopping as well, some recognizably familiar, some complete strangers.

“Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy the show?” Jimin smiled charmingly, letting a twinkle come to his eyes.

Min Yoongi looked back at him, eyes looking thoughtfully into his, then seemed to find something amusing, letting the pink pout curve in the smallest degree upward, a mischievous spark in his eyes.

“Yes, Park Jimin... I did...” 

Jimin smiled back, opening his mouth, ready to ask him-

“I thought you were beautiful.”

As Chanyeol gasped and Yoongi’s companions seemed unaware of their exchange in Korean, Jimin’s mind stuttered to a stop.

Min Yoongi’s smile grew wider, then nodded at Jimin, and continued on his interrupted path with his companions, leaving the show floor.

Jimin felt a flush rise to his cheeks, ignoring the outraged comments of Chanyeol, watching the broad shoulders disappear into the crowd again.

He... Min Yoongi... 

Jimin felt the first smolder of a warm glow begin to kindle within.

*************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those dropping comments and kudos... I appreciate every one!
> 
> I always love to hear feedback, so don’t be shy!... they often keep the story going and definitely have an impact!
> 
> Find my Yoonmin-loving ass on twt @starry4yngi and if you haven’t yet, check out my other 2 fics, one complete and another not... yet...😬


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> Things are a mess for Jimin, so... sorry.

*******************

“Oppa... th-thank you, I... I’ve had a lovely time...”

Jimin smiled winningly at the shy hesitance of the girl who was stumbling her way through their farewell.

His father had assigned him to offer to escort the daughter of one of their new business associates at a benefit gala and Jimin had complied with little hesitance... it was easy to partner an ingenue... they were usually fresh out of schooling, or still in uni, and still shy... as this one was.

“It was my pleasure, JinHee...” and he held the small fingers gently, bowing over them with a twinkle in his eye, making the pretty girl giggle behind her hand.

“Oh... I see my mother... I hope... I hope to see you again, Jimin ssi...” she strived to be bold, yet could scarcely hold his eyes for more than the initial meet.

As he smiled at her, a photographer snapped a photo, him holding her hand, both smiling at one another. Jimin knew it would appear in media news shortly, amongst whispers and rumors of a burgeoning romance or flirt, as often happened.

Jimin did notice that the pics of himself with other men were usually assigned to new business deals, networking, etc. He shook his head to himself. 

“Eomma... hi... I had such a lovely time...” the girl’s mother was a sturdy looking woman, heavily made up, with extraordinarily large gemstones on fingers and ears. She looked smilingly at Jimin, who bowed low to her.

“Thank you for your company, Jimin ssi... JinHee will have little else to talk about for some time, I think.” She looked at the two of them, then gave Jimin a shrewd look. “I spoke with your father...”

Jimin’s smile didn’t waver.

“He said you were... very good company...” She stepped closer, letting one hand, seemingly by accident, brush his thigh.

Jimin’s smile stayed fixed, but his eyes looked brittle. “Ah... yes, I... I enjoy being social...”

“My husband is quite interested in your father’s side venture... he’s asked me to have a look into the potential gains on our end... but I’m not quite /sure/ of the desirability of the investment...”

Jimin’s thoughts whirled even as he once again felt the sourness of betrayal...

His father had led him to believe he just needed to escort the little ingenue around, keep her parents happy from the attention she would get being partnered by him to a few events... but apparently he’d been deceived...

Blissfully unaware, JinHee looked glowingly at the beautiful man. “Oh, I’m sure anything Jimin ssi’s father says is true...” she gushed.

He felt the thick perfume cloy in his throat as the woman leaned forward. “I’d like to speak further, Jimin ssi... perhaps you could meet me to... discuss... the benefits... after I take JinHee back to our suite...” he saw the bee-stung lips push the full cheeks up in a small conspiratorial smile.

Jimin felt his eyes harden, even as he met her look with a light, charming one of his own. “It would be my pleasure, Lee SunHee ssi.”

As JinHee again spoke her farewells, he felt a square hand slide down his arm, her shifted form hiding the move, and felt a rectangular keycard being slipped into his hand, his fingers curling around it instinctively.

The woman inclined her head at Jimin’s low bow, and with a smile of anticipation, took her daughter out of the ballroom, making her way presumably to the elevators for the suites above in the posh hotel.

Jimin didn’t watch them go.

He had straightened up, and slipped the keycard into his formal jacket pocket.

“Jimin!”

He turned to see one of his cronies rush over to him.

“Can you believe this crush? I haven’t seen this many people at a benefit since- oh... there they are... /that’s/ why...”

As the handsome young actor tossed his chin to a point behind him, Jimin turned to see what he was referring to, and froze.

Jimin’s saw two tall men sandwiching a third, shorter one amongst an elite-looking group.

Jimin saw Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and the third, whom he’d found out was Kim Seokjin, amongst a peppering of highly affluent business men,... and recognized Kim Namjoon’s father,... as well as Yoongi’s.

They were an attractive trio, tastefully expensive, two dark heads and one chestnut blond.

His gaze strayed to the shorter figure in the middle, seeing the long fingered hand gently touch the back of his neck as he spoke to a grave looking man bent toward him.

Jimin felt his throat go dry, not fully hearing his friend’s husky tones. 

“What?” Jimin interrupted.

His friend eyed him knowingly. “I said that more than half of this group is probably here to catch sight of, and hopefully the ear of, one of /those/ three...”

Jimin deftly snagged a glass of champagne a server was floating by with. “What’s so special about /them/.” Jimin took a small sip of the bubbles, feeling the rectangular card burn a hole in his pocket and conscience.

His friend chuckled attractively. “Don’t play stupid.”

Jimin saw how the small group was attracting an ever-growing cluster of older women toting their daughters with them, eyeing and sizing up one another, waiting to jump into the conversation with the three apparently very eligible young chaebols.

He eyed the shortest among them, thinking back to a few weeks past, to the fashion show, when Min Yoongi had left him with his mind blanked by his seemingly weighted comment.

Jimin had been completely caught off guard, taken aback, a little embarrassed that his avid attention hadn’t gone unnoticed, and a stirring of preening pleasure he’d been unable to beat back that his avid attention hadn’t gone unnoticed.

But he wasn’t going to dwell on that.

Min Yoongi wasn’t going to be part of his life.

His father wanted it too badly... 

“Oh, my... Park Jimin... your charms aren’t to be underestimated... here he comes...”

The murmured warning took a moment for him to process, and realized only as he saw a softly smiling visage making his way to him that he had been standing, staring at Min Yoongi.

Before he could think of escape, the beautiful man with the strangely sharp, yet gentle eyes was before him.

“Ah, hello, Park Jimin ssi... it’s nice to see you again.”

How had he forgotten the warmth within that kindled at the low tones of that graveled voice?

“Min Yoongi ssi... it’s always nice to see you.”

Jimin winced internally at his over-enthusiastic answer, but couldn’t miss the amused spark light the other’s eyes.

They stood, mute, until Jimin’s friend gently hummed.

“Ah, Min Yoongi ssi... this is a friend of mine-“

Min Yoongi nodded at the other. “How do you do? I’m very familiar with your work... you’re so talented... many of us enjoy your dramas.”

Jimin’s friend smiled happily. “Ah! Thank you! Always pleased to hear accolades... and may I say there is quite the buzz of speculation concerning you and your endeavors as well?”

Jimin was startled out of his silent reverie, looking back and forth between the two men.

He saw Min Yoongi’s eyes light with surprise. “Ah, I’m surprised you’ve heard anything...”

His friend laughed lowly, a pleasant sound. “Ah, Min Yoongi ssi... three of the most eligible and attractive chaebols, joining forces, with whispers of meetings being held amongst the biggest entertainment figures in the country?... you mustn’t underestimate the prominence you all hold and the avid curiosity you prompt within the public eye...”

Yoongi regarded the tall, attractive man quietly, then turned to the shorter figure, meeting the brown eyes that were searching his own, silvery-blue tinged hair falling over a smooth brow.

A soft sound left the plush, glossy mouth. “Ah, I’m sorry to sayI have no idea what you two are referring to... I’ve been quite busy with-“

“I’m sure you’ve been very busy, Jimin ssi.” 

Jimin started, not having seen Min Yoongi’s two taller friends return to his side, and then flushed as the words connected with the memory Min Yoongi’s friends had of him...

Min Yoongi’s lips pulled downward, opening to say-

Jimin didn’t want to know.

“Yes, Kim Seokjin ssi... and I’m already running behind for another promised appearance... it was... nice to see you all...” Jimin nodded to the group, not meeting anyone’s eyes, and strode from them, head held high, calling out greetings to acquaintances as he made his way out of the ballroom.

He fumed internally at how he’d let that man’s comment discommode him, prompting him to make what amounted to a startled flight, not wanting to see anything in a pale face... not condemnation, not disgust,... and not pity.

He walked to the elevators in the marbled vestibule, pulling out the keycard to identify the suite number imprinted upon it.

He squared his shoulders and turned once within, eyeing his determined reflection as the doors closed him within, propelling him upward, even as his stomach sank.

And a few hours later, faced his reflection again, this time in the bathroom of a suite, looking at his face slick with the wetness of JinHee’s mother, who had happily immediately left after almost ripping Jimin’s hair from his scalp, angry red scratches up and down his back from where she’d been urging him on to get her to completion.

Jimin rinsed his face, his mouth.

“My darling boy... tell your father we will certainly invest in the proposed new export... and he has you to thank for that... I hope to see you /soon/, Jimin...” 

His stomach turned at the memory of her maneuvering his mouth to her breasts, then, hands fisted in his hair... much lower, legs spread wide for him, moaning aloud at the sloppy, wet sounds he made, completely aroused even as he gasped for breath, his nose and mouth assaulted by wet heat and ungroomed hair. She had cooed and giggled and jerked his head where she wanted until she’d demanded she be mounted.

Jimin glared at himself.

Pictured his father’s face.

He hated them.

Both of them.

______________________

“Car’s being brought around...” Jin offered as the three young men said their farewells, leaving the bar within the hotel to head back to their respective homes.

After Park Jimin had exited, Yoongi, his frustrated looks ignored by his two friends, had continued speaking with the young actor before being pulled in to other discussions by the many people that approached them.

They had been convinced to join the group heading to the bar, the benefit gala segueing into smaller networking cliques which they couldn’t turn down, and now, at the ungodly hour of four in the morning...

“Hyung... I know you’re mad-“ Joon began.

“I’m not /mad/... you were just-“

Jin looked at the disgruntled face. “Yoongi... you... you don’t get it...he’s... he’s not what you think... he’s-“

Yoongi’s mouth turned down again as he interrupted. “Maybe he’s not what /you/-“

His words broke off as he saw a figure with silvery hair leave the elevator, familiar, with clothes looking a little rumpled... looking straight ahead, striding quickly down the hall to the elaborate front lobby and entrance.

Jin and Joon had both turned as he had abruptly broken off what he was saying.

Jin’s face was grim as he turned back to his friend.

“Yoongi...”

Yoongi shook his head once. “Don’t.”

Joon sighed. “Hyung, listen... whatever you’re thinking-... I mean... yeah, I get that he’s hot, but he’s kind of-“

Yoongi looked at his friend. “Joon... you think it’s because of /looks/? Seriously?”

Jin pursed his lips, even as Joon’s gaze fell. “Yoongi... you’ve never said /why/ you seem so... I don’t know... Why /him/? You don’t even /know/ him... and his father... their company... you /know/ what your father said... Why Park Jimin?”

Yoongi watched the figure disappear, leaving the question hanging between them.

Jin sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get answers... yet.

“Car’s here... let’s go.” He slipped his arm through the others’, pulling both of them along.

They needed to know more about one Park Jimin.

*****************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is healthy and happy.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and if you’re enjoying, please hit those kudos and I’d love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> If you came across this first, check out my other fics and let me know what you think!
> 
> Find my Yoonmin loving ass on Twt @starry4yngi and let me know you’re a reader😘😘😘😘


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.
> 
> This chapter has physical violence, physical abuse, verbal abuse... homophobic language...
> 
> Please note updated tags.

****************

“I /told/ you you were going to help land the investment!” His father snarled, slamming his hand down onto his desk.

Jimin breathed hard, standing before him.

For once, his father hadn’t “summoned” him to his office, a lavish, yet forbiddingly modern, suite that had unforgivingly huge empty spaces, successfully intimidating most people into feel small.

Jimin had, perhaps foolishly, chosen to be here, today.

“You said the /daughter/...” he managed to get out, head still lowered, unwilling to meet his father’s enraged visage.

Immediately showering upon his return to his posh apartment after the hours spent with JinHee’s mother, Jimin had let the water run down his face and body for what seemed like hours, thinking over his life... thinking about his role in the company... thinking about his father... and mayhap even a certain chestnut-haired man.

For someone who presumably was going to inherit the company one day, his father certainly kept him out of the day-to-day managing details and inner workings of the company and its hierarchy. He ran Jimin through hoops to land huge accounts and close special deals... but it was all bedroom deals... societal conquests...

And he was getting that it was highly unusual,... it wasn’t what other fathers were doing with their heirs.

He knew by bearding the lion in his den, he would infuriate the man, but Jimin was having a crisis... he no longer wanted the life he was living... or rather, living a part-time seamy covert life to ensure his father got what he wanted, uncaring of what that might mean for his son.

Jimin stood before his father, head bowed.

In his shower, he couldn’t help but to reflect upon the past few years, re-examining the years through a different perspective.

As the future head of the company, what was he actually accomplishing with these bedroom assignations... 

How was he supposed to stand before the men and women he’d serviced, one day a part of the hierarchy, cutting deals and negotiating... with people that had had his tongue on them, that had their dicks inside of him... his mouth, his ass... hands pulling his hair, filling him up with cocks and cum... their dark desires,... becoming a momentary playground... a pretty thing to have... to be serviced by...

And Jimin finally had come to the epiphany that his father had no thought, /no/ future plan, of naming him his heir... there was no way he would have so thoroughly compromised the future head of Park Enterprises in such seedy endeavors.

And Jimin had sat down on the smooth stones of his waterfall shower, the water raining down on him, eyes squinting into a dire future... and a sordid past and present.

He was nothing.

His father was ensuring he was, and was going to stay, nothing.

So, spending the rest of the weekend rethinking his situation, his actual role in the future of his family’s company, unable to reach his mother on the phone... he had decided to try to catch his father first thing Monday...

So here he was,.. he had come here, flying past his father’s secretary and flustered, objecting personal assistant, to face his father, to demand what he thought he was doing, to his son,... to his own /son/...

“Jimin... what does it matter /who/ it is, /what/ it is... you take care of the situation in any case... that is what you do for the company, for me...” Jimin couldn’t miss the slight curl of the thick lips, the shadow of disgust in his father’s eyes. “... and since you’re here, tonight I need you to-“

“No.”

His father checked what he was about to say. “What?” He demanded.

“No... I... I’m not doing it any more.”

His father’s face immediately went flat. “What makes you think you have a choice?”

Jimin raised his eyes to his father. “I... I’m not doing it... I feel like-“

“Why the /fuck/ do you think I would ever /care/ about how /you feel/?” His father whispered in raging disbelief, venomously, staring at the diminutive figure in front of him, no longer trying to mask the emotion that must have been behind every look he’d ever given Jimin... hate. “You are going to do exactly what and /who/ I tell you to, do you understand?”

At the naked hatred on the swarthy man’s face, a man Jimin didn’t recognize completely, he felt himself shrivel, pulling in on himself... recalling the disgust on a peer’s face... but then... there was also soft brown eyes... a hand at his back... artless looks of appreciation... and a quiet voice telling him...

“No...” his voice was shaky. “No! I'm not going to let you-“

And before Jimin could think, his father was before him, a hand gripped in his carefully styled locks, and suddenly, numbing and blinding pain exploded in his jaw and mind... and held in place by the fist in his hair, he endured more blows, even as he tried to stumble away.

His surprised cries did nothing to deter the sick thuds that were landed on his face, his torso,... and suddenly, he was thrown to the ground, feeling kicks to his ribs, his stomach... he felt bile in the back of his throat, arms thrown over his face, trying instinctively to curl into a tuck to protect face, soft organs, barely registering the nonstop profane vituperations that were pouring from thick lips, spittle flying out from the force of deep, long-harbored hatred.

Jimin was beginning to black out, from shock, from pain, his only thought... why?... why did his father hate him so much... how?... /how/ could his /father/ hate him /so much/... what kind of refuse was he, what kind of trash... that his own father could think of him as nothing but a whore, a whore to pimp out,... a piece of filth that he could kick like the veriest piece of trash...

After what seemed like interminable hours, but was only a few moments, Park Jung-Hwa seemed to finally recollect himself.

He straightened up, reaching into his inner pocket for a kerchief, wiping at his mouth, his brow, sweating from the outburst of violence. He eyed the curled ball in the expensive clothing on the ground, his sneer of disgust still on his face. 

Hearing the small sounds coming from the figure, the quick gasps of breath, he was tempted to land another kick, but instead, straightened his tie and suit jacket, walking brusquely back to his desk, reaching for his phone.

“You have one day - one day to put yourself back together and meet the CFO of the LeeJung company tomorrow evening... or get out... if you miss the appointment, you’ll be locked out of your apartment, your car will be reported stolen, and all of your cards will be cancelled. Your phone will be locked, as well, and I will report anything missing from your apartment, anything you take, as stolen, including the clothes in your closet and on your back. Do you understand, Jimin?”

He stared impassively at the ball on his floor, disgust flooding his body, fury ready to implode again, pushing him to vent his frustration on the pathetic excuse for a son the bitch had saddled him with.

But not for long.

His longtime mistress had interesting news... and he was still young enough to take advantage of it.

“You think I could ever let something like /you/ be the future of Park Enterprises?... you?... you do what you are good at... what you are good /for/... never forget that...”

He cleared his throat, and made way for his door, not sparing his son a single glance.

As he closed the door to his office behind him, listening to his secretary’s and assistant’s sudden begging for pardon, Jung-Hwa waived them away. “My son will be finishing up a few things inside... let WooJin know he is to escort Jimin back to his apartment... he’s suddenly not feeling well.”

He strode away, knowing they would fall in to their roles, his secretary contacting one of his personal security officers to deal with Jimin, and his assistant would... he could already hear the soft footfalls behind him, ready to do his slightest bidding.

Everything was the way it should be.

He would give Jimin until the morning... if he heard of no progress of him, he would begin the shutdown he had outlined... and was all too-eager to initiate... but knew... his useless son... he knew nothing else... would drag his pitiful self back and ready to do his own bidding... this brief bit of defiance and madness forgotten...

And the CFO... wouldn’t care about Jimin’s appearance... from what he’d heard of the man and his proclivities, Jimin wouldn’t have been fit for public appearance for a while, anyway...

Jung-Hwa readied himself for the bruncheon he was to have with some of the officers of his own company.

__________________

Jimin lay there for untold moments, tears running from his eyes, whether from pain or humiliation, he had no idea... nor did he think it mattered.

He could only feel pain, both sharp and numbing... he was afraid to uncurl, knowing more pain would result... his breaths were gasps, kept short and tight, afraid of what his ribs had in store for him if he dragged in the long, large breaths he longed for...

He flinched, hearing the door to the suite open again, even knowing that it wouldn’t be his father.

“Park Jimin ssi... I will escort you home when you are ready.”

Ah. His father’s man.

Jimin let out a shaky breath, allowing his fingers to come away from his bloody nose... and gently lowered his arms from his face first, releasing a sobbing breath as his ribs protested even that small movement.

Jimin let his torso relax, readying himself to uncurl... and hissed, seeing explosions of light as the pain screamed throughout his body.

The tall man stood, staring ahead at a wall.

He had his instructions.

Jimin couldn’t help the sob that tore from his throat as he rolled onto his knees, head between his arms on the floor, trying to reconcile the spinning and the pain.

His father had hurt him before... many times before... badly... but it had never been like this... so brutally, so uncaring of his face... of the repercussions... and he knew... his father /hoped/ Jimin wouldn’t meet that CFO... or if he did... he’d have to lie and humiliate himself further...

Jimin took his time to plant his hands onto the floor, forehead pressing down, marshaling all of his will to push himself upright in one smooth movement, knowing his ribs, his pain, wouldn’t allow too many large changes of position.

A cry escaped as he kneeled upright, his head hanging back, feeling the blood seep down the back of his throat, blinking tears as he stared up to the ceiling.

At least he didn’t have anyone watching, knowing that the security officer would have his eyes trained anywhere but on him... his father had well-disciplined staff.

Jimin put his hands on his thighs, regrouping, knowing he had to have one more push to stand upright, the sharp pain in his ribs making him wonder if he’d broken one this time... and the still-present nausea... unsure if it was the pain or damage...

He gasped, open-mouthed, and screwed his eyes tightly closed, and with a huge exhale, stood upright, shoulders tensed, arms held carefully to his side.

He stood, shaking, waiting for the white lights to leave his vision, until he knew he could take steps without passing out...

“Give them to me.” He managed to his the words out.

The other man immediately strode over and held out a handkerchief, which Jimin used to gently mop at his chin, under his nose, and shoved the soiled cloth into his pants pocket, suddenly remembering another hand that had gently helped him once before, though it hadn’t been blood that time.

Shoving the image aside, he held out his hand again, and felt the brim of a cap put into his awaiting grasp.

And as he mustered his will to bring it up to his head, he knew it was too much.

He stood there, in humiliation, knowing such a simple act was beyond him right now.

“Please.”

He felt the proffered cap taken from him, then affixed firmly on his head, careful to not jar him, the brim pulled low on his forehead, shadowing his face and features. He heard the man step away.

Jimin sucked in a breath.

“I’m ready.”

The walk out and the elevator ride down was all about moving his body as little as possible, as quickly as possible, trying to not black out from the pain. Jimin kept blinking, digging his nails into his own palm, unknowingly drawing blood, trying to give himself something else to fixate on.

“The car is pulling up next, sir.”

Jimin didn’t even nod, keeping his head down, the smell of concrete enough to bring back his nausea, as did the thought, how was he going to get in the fucking car without passing out?

“Park Jimin ssi? Jimin ssi?”

Oh, fuck no. Not now... how could it be...

“Park Jimin ssi? Are... are you all right?”

The low voice was right in front of him, and Jimin could see... designer shoes in front of his own, dark perfectly fitted pants, falling just right...

“Jimin ssi-“

And suddenly there was a face ducked low, looking up into his own-

“This way, sir-“

His father’s man, probably having seen someone conversing with Jimin, tried to take his arm to lead him away, eliciting an involuntary gasp from the injured young man.

“Get your hand off of him.”

The authority in the voice brooked no refusal.

“Sir, please step away-“

“Do you know who I am?” The growl could almost be heard, sending shivers down Jimin’s spine.

“I’m sorry, Min Yoongi ssi... forgive me,... but Park Jimin ssi wasn’t feeling well, and I was charged with seeing him back to his home-“

Jimin didn’t dare, and really couldn’t, look up to see what was occurring.

There was a moment of silence.

“Jimin ssi... I was on my way to see you... I am happy to see you home, we can talk on the way-“

“Sir, I’m afraid-“

“Your services are no longer required.” 

Jimin could feel a wave of dizziness looming... the nausea getting worse the longer he had to stand... could feel a thick trickle still making its way from his nostril to his philtrum... and madness overtook him.

“Please go, Woojin ssi...”

There was an interminable moment where Jimin thought he’d suffer the humiliation of having an inferior refute his command...

“Very well, sir... but I’ll have to report to your father-“

“You do that, very good... Jimin ssi, please, this way...” the low voice interrupted whatever the security officer was about to say.

Jimin felt the gentlest of touches at his lower back, a soft, murmured, “Just over here...” and a cool, large hand slipped into his, which he grasped like a lifeline, reaching for strength as he moved blindly forward, head still down, thus was able to see a drop of blood splash onto his own shoe, and heard a car door open.

He sucked in his breath, not expecting an arm slip around his waist, the gentleness prompting tears from the completely overwhelming sensation, helping to lower him down and into the car.

Jimin breathed fitfully, a hand coming up to nudge at the stiffening tackiness on his lip as he felt the door close, and then felt a body slide in next to him, from the other side.

“Change of plans, Jae-hoe... home please... and please call Dr. Yang to meet me there... immediately.”

Jimin couldn’t register what was happening. He just kept trying to breathe in and out. 

In and out.

He closed his eyes.

His father was going to end him... one way or another... for this, for being here with Min Yoongi,... Jimin had just earned his father’s forever enmity,... if he didn’t have it already.

“Please...”

He felt a moist cloth being held to his nose... a gentle touching of wetness to his nose, lips... 

He didn’t know what to say.

“Jimin ssi... I... “

“Jimin.”

There was a pause. “What?”

“Just call me Jimin.”

He continued to stare downward, the cap still pulled low on his head... he couldn’t look away from the spot of drying blood on the shine of his leather loafer.

“Then call me ‘hyung’’ came the soft reply.

The ride could have been hours or minutes, Jimin was unsure.

He didn’t register leaving the car, only capable of feeling growing pain, blossoming bruises, aches from parts of his body he hadn’t realized his father’s foot had been in contact with.

His mind whirled, and he almost vomited, swallowing back the sour bile, refusing to soil Min Yoongi with the disaster that was Park Jimin right now.

He was in such a haze of pain and tightly-reined focus that he didn’t register his surroundings until he realized he was reclined on a bed, propped with innumerable pillows, and a strange man was removing his cap, looking gravely into his face.

The man had a trustworthy face... kind and grave... laugh lines evident... he looked like a father should...

Jimin heard the undertones of a conversation, but couldn’t focus on what was being said... he saw the bright pin light flashed in his eyes, felt himself being examined, and almost passing out from the pain when he was helped out of his jacket, his shirt’s removal...

Jimin didn’t see the grave scowl that brushed past Min Yoongi’s face... his carefully schooled expression as his eyes roved over blossoming bruises... the angry red and abraded skin of a shoe stuttering over skin... Jimin didn’t see soft dark eyes become pitch with smoldering rage.

Jimin was floating... his small involuntary sounds of pain had pushed the doctor to do a thorough, but quick, exam, then had Jimin swallow a few pills, before beginning to tape his ribs, applying ointments to some of his contusions, discussing his injuries with Min Yoongi.

“No... no concussion... shock and the pain from his ribs... the blows there...”

Jimin found the low murmur of the gravelly voice soothing... found new life in being able to breath a little more fully, without so much pain... and felt a gentle, cool hand to his bruising cheek before he felt... nothing.

Jimin awoke slowly, groggily, not understanding what position he was in.

He slowly opened his eyes and realized he was inclined... in a strange bed.

His heart lurched, having momentarily forgotten the events of the... past day?... same day?... He made to sit up straight, and quickly recoiled from the pain that it prompted.

“Jimin?”

Jimin turned his head to see the sunlight falling on a head of chestnut hair and canted feline eyes, narrowed in concern,... Min Yoongi, in a rumpled silk tee and soft joggers, looking at him.

“Min... Min Yoongi ssi...” his voice /felt/ rusty, disused... abused... like the rest of him. 

Everything came flooding back.

Yoongi seemed to recognize this, giving him a moment to recollect everything, then gently, “It’s hyung, remember?”

Jimin bit his lower lip, eyes lowered. 

What the fuck was he doing here... what the fuck was he going to do?

“Jimin?...” Jimin looked over at the hesitance in the voice.

“Can you take a little juice? Let’s see if that stays down before we get really ambitious with some soup, okay?”

Jimin basked in the small, encouraging smile, then wanted to kick himself, deriding himself for lapping up even the smallest sign of kindness, like some kind of starved dog.

Seeing a change in the younger’s eyes, Yoongi busied himself by picking up a glass of juice that sat by the bed, straw gently placed between Jimin’s lips.

Looking down at the straw, Jimin didn’t see the intent look of the older, scanning the bruises on his face.

Jimin felt the cool, sweet liquid burst in his mouth and give new life to his parched throat.

Before he could begin to greedily suck in the sweet fruit, he felt the straw being pulled away. “I’m sorry - let’s just see how that treats you, first, okay?”

Jimin looked up into the soft eyes, seeing only concern. He nodded carefully, making a small noise of agreement.

He watched as Yoongi placed the glass back on the bedside table, and then saw the young man turn to drag an armchair over to his bedside.

He couldn’t help but look admiringly at the way the t-shirt stretched over broad shoulders, the arms flexing lean muscle, then slapped himself internally... maybe he really was no better than his father thought...

“Jimin... do you... do you want to talk about what happened?... what I can do?... what do you need?”

Jimin stared at him.

How do you tell someone, one that was supposed to be like yourself, that you’d just gotten beaten to the floor like trash by your own father... that you were, most likely at this point, homeless, jobless, family-less, money-less... completely worthless. That your own father wanted to pimp you out, again, and refusing, had been treated as worse than trash.

Not knowing how closely his expression was being watched, Jimin didn’t realize how suddenly vulnerable he looked, eyes large, mouth slightly ajar. But meeting the other’s eyes, he recollected himself. 

“Let’s just say there was a disagreement.”

“With your father?”

Jimin grimaced. “Maybe I fell.”

“Into someone’s fist and pointed leather shoe?”

Jimin let a long breath escape. He smiled, unaware of how heartbreaking that smile looked. “Something like that, yeah...”

Yoongi continued to look at him gravely. 

Jimin could see the pulse at his throat throb, under the white skin, could see the lashes that lined the sharp eyes... 

“Thank you, /hyung/, for everything,... but I do need to get home...”

There was a small headshake. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

JImin’s eyes were confused. “What?”

Yoongi looked down at his hands, then back up to meet Jimin’s eyes again.

“You’re phone’s been blowing up... your... friend?... Chanyeol?... he’s been spamming you pretty much non-stop...”

Yoongi leaned over and took the phone that had been laying on the nightstand and held it out to the younger. “I just silenced it, but there were so many notices, I couldn’t help but see... Dr. Yang said you needed as much rest as possible-“

Jimin slid his phone open and his eyes traveled through the barrage of texts his paramour had been spamming him...

“How... how long was I out?” Jimin couldn’t quite reconcile the times...

“It’s Tuesday afternoon...”

Jimin’s face drained of the color he’d managed to recover from sleep. “What.”

Yoongi looked concernedly at him. “You were in pretty bad shape... the doctor gave you something for the pain, and I tried to get you to take something for dinner last night, but you didn’t really wake... I was afraid you’d been concussed, but the doctor assured that...”

Jimin blinked through the explanation.

It was Tuesday afternoon.

Chanyeol had been bodily thrown out of his suite, locked out...

His father had implemented his threats.

Jimin stared at his phone... then quickly tried to access some of his accounts...

Blocked.

Accounts frozen.

Notices of accounts closed on his email.

Jimin tried to remember how much cash he had in his wallet... 

And even as he stared at his phone, ... he realized his phone was abruptly no longer working... no data, no cellular service...

“Jimin?... Jimin?...”

Jimin stared at the phone in his hand. He had literally nothing.

Even the clothes he was wearing...

He looked down at himself and realized he wasn’t /in/ his clothes... he was wearing soft, brushed pajamas, the top a button down, the trousers... he looked over at Yoongi, questions in his eyes.

Yoongi had a hand to the ack of his head. “Your clothes? Hmmmm.... Dr. Yang had to examine you... I don’t know if you remember... but I gave him a pair of my... the buttons were going to be easier on you than lifting your arms over your head...”

“You helped?” Came the quiet question.

There was a short nod.

“Where are they? The clothes?”

Yoongi gestured to the door. There was a hanger with his clothes in a bag... he must have had them cleaned...

They weren’t even /his/ anymore, were they?... his father-

“Jimin?”

Jimin looked back at the blond, and just slightly shook his head, smiling...

They were from the same world... but they were worlds apart.

Jimin felt a bubbling inside... it was so ridiculous... he was Park Jimin, societal darling and reputed heir to a wealthy conglomerate... 

... and he was in borrowed pajamas, in a strange bed, without money, without phone, without clothes...

He couldn’t even contact his own mother without having to borrow a phone?... and luckily he could still access his contacts, otherwise he wouldn’t even have a number to call...

Jimin began to giggle... and it was an hysterical sound... he began to laugh hard enough that he felt the pang of pain in his ribs as Yoongi stood, coming toward him.

Jimin just stared at the brown eyes looking back, tears beginning to form and roll down his high cheeks... it was a complete farce... this life he’d been leading... thinking that he was in charge of anything...

“Jimin?”

Jimin shook his head, bringing himself under control, gulping as he pulled in deeper breaths.

“What can I do?”

Jimin pulled his mouth into a tight-lipped smile. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

Yoongi’s expression startled. “Um, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go anywhere... Dr. Yang initially wanted you at hospital for x-rays...” Jimin grimaced. “... but I wanted to try to keep your privacy as much as possible if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

Jimin nodded tightly... the last thing he needed was rumors and photos of him like... /this/...

“You can stay here... you really shouldn’t be moving too much-“

As Jimin’s eyes met the other’s, the question must have been obvious.

“Ah... it’s no problem...” Yoongi looked self-conscious for the first time. “Um... if you need help getting up... to, you know,... just let me know, but since that juice is staying down, I’m going to go and get you something to eat, okay?”

Jimin looked at his hands that were still clutched around his near-useless phone. “Why are you helping me? Why did you bring me here?”

He let his eyes slide over, wanting to see the other man’s expression.

Yoongi looked at him levelly. “You needed help... that was obvious... and I help my friends-“

Jimin broke in, “-but we’re not friends...”

Yoongi tilted his head, looking at the narrow face. “But we could be.”

Jimin had nothing to say to that.

Yoongi nodded minutely, then turned to leave, but checked himself. He walked over to the small table by the bed and pulled open the small drawer below. 

Jimin watched, confused, as he saw Yoongi pull a screen out, thumb it open, then tap into it.

He took the screen that was proffered in some surprise.

“You can turn the tv on, get on the internet... make a call... whatever you need to do... I’ll be back.”

Jimin kept his eyes on the surprisingly broad back as the other man left, gently closing the door, but not completely, behind him.

Jimin looked at the open device, thinking about what was now happening.

He sighed, thinking about what he needed to do.

Contact his mother. Find a place to stay. Figure out what he was going to do. Figure out what his father was going to do.

____________________

Jimin looked up at the soft sound at the door, surprised to see Yoongi himself, bed tray in hand, walking carefully over to him.

“Ah, hope you like a little spice... thought this might pick you up a little.”

Jimin stared as Yoongi arranged the tray over his lap, not sparing a glance for the screen he’d been on, and Jimin’s stomach audibly growled at the enticing aromas that were escaping the clay pot.

He watched as Yoongi lifted the small cloche from the rice as well as the lid from the stew pot, revealing a savory looking stew, tofu and meat floating, the red of the broth and bright green of scallions making his mouth water.

“I have a few calls to make, so I’ll let you eat in peace,...” He gestured to the device that lay at Jimin’s hand.

Jimin handed it over, and Yoongi took it back to the homescreen, showing him an icon. “Hit that if you need me... it’ll sound my phone...”

Jimin nodded, unsure of what he was supposed to think... say, except, “Thank you.”

Yoongi paused, then nodded, and promptly left again, this time closing the door completely.

Jimin dipped the bowl of the spoon into the stew immediately, sucking in air to cool his mouthful.

It was delicious.

He took a few more mouthfuls, before looking to the screen again.

There had been no answer from his mother, which wasn’t all that surprising. His father could have easily threatened her or prohibited her in some way from having contact with him.

And Chanyeol. Chanyeol had gone on a tirade about the indignity he’d endured, and that Jimin would have a lot to make up to him if he wanted to see him again.

Jimin was unsure if he wanted to.

His biggest problem right now was a place to stay, a phone, and the lack of money.

He honestly had no idea what he was supposed to do.

The more Jimin thought on it, the more nervous he got.

His father was all too-aware that Jimin knew innumerable dirty secrets about the company, about the deals they made... he couldn’t imagine his father throwing him out of his life with all of that kind of ammunition at his disposable if he didn’t have some kind of plan in place, some kind of insurance, to ensure that Jimin would never use that information, find a way to retaliate...

What was Park Jung-hwa planning?

“Jimin?”

He robotically looked away from /nothing/ to focus on the young man that was before him again, this time dressed in a silk shirt, perfectly fitted trousers, and a gentle smile.

“I need to step out for a little... can I get you anything?”

Jimin saw the brows raise in query... and without realizing he was speaking aloud, said, “Everything.”

He realized his mistake when he saw the brows lower, concern painting his face. “What?”

Jimin caught himself. “Ah... sorry... was thinking of something else... I’m fine, thank you...”

Yoongi continued looking into the flushed face, noticing the small fingers twisting in the sheets, seeing only half the food consumed, thinking of the blank look on the younger’s face when he’d entered.

Yoongi sighed.

He loved his friends... respected them, trusted them with his life... and knew it was reciprocated... but the one thing they’d never agreed on was Park Jimin.

As Jimin watched with surprised apprehension, Yoongi once again took to the chair near the bed, pulling out his phone, sending a text to postpone the meeting he was supposed to be leaving for.

“Jimin.” Yoongi lightly touched at his own face, finger absently rubbing at his sloped jawline, shaking the fringe from his eyes. “I... I know that something is happening,... I’m guessing your father is a part of that... a part of whatever happened to you... “ He seemed to be trying to choose his words carefully. “I know that you know our families are... not friends... but I don’t think you know that my parents... your father’s enmity against our family... it’s not reciprocated, not in the way he feels for /us/...”

Jimin was too taken-aback to answer.

“I... I’d like to... to help... to help you... I think,...” Yoongi made a moue. “I know... it’s completely absurd... we don’t know each other... your father dislikes mine... and I’m asking you to-“

“Hate.” Jimin interrupted.

Yoongi’s brows flew up. “What?

Jimin shook his head at Yoongi. “Hate... my father doesn’t dislike yours... he /hates/ him... has /always/ hated him... and you... he /hates/ you... he raised /me/ to hate you...”

Yoongi seemed at a loss for words.

“But I don’t... I mean, I don’t know you...” Jimin continued, trying to reconcile his thoughts. “But I don’t hate you...”

Yoongi nodded slowly. “Okay... so... we don’t hate each other...”

“He did this.”

Yoongi’s eyes held his.

“My father... he did this...” Jimin tossed his head to shake his hair out of his own eyes, his ribs twinging in protest. “I wouldn’t... I wouldn’t do what he wanted me to do...” JImin realized he had no cards to play... no one to reach out to... other than this one man who was for some reason showing him solicitude and kindness... again.

He looked into the peat brown eyes and left everything on the table. “He did this when I wouldn’t do what he wanted... and told me I had until this morning to comply... or he’d have me locked out of my place, freeze my accounts... shut down my phone...” He picked up his discarded phone, waving it. “This is pretty much just an address book right now...” He smiled ruefully. “He even wanted the clothes I was wearing back... threatened to report stolen goods to the police.” His laugh had no mirth.

Yoongi’s face had transformed as the younger spoke, from concern and surprise to something that was disbelief with something that smoldered in some dark emotion.

“Your father.” Yoongi looked at him, eyes tracing the bruises on his face, seemingly looking through his pajamas at the bruises and bandaging beneath. “Your father did this to you... and then left you... and took everything away... because you wouldn’t-“

“I wouldn’t... make myself available for a meeting...” Jimin finished, looking away.

The silence was heavy, pregnant, Jimin already regretting opening his mouth. What choice did he have? Who could he turn to? What could he do...

Jimin startled as Yoongi suddenly stood.

He stepped next to Jimin, then gently placed a hand over the small, twisting one. “You’re safe here, Jimin. Please,... I need to go, but I’ll be back soon... try to rest... and please... just... get rest... if you need /anything/, my housekeeper is here for a few more hours... she’ll not ask questions... just use this...” he pushed the screen back into Jimin’s hands and pointed at another icon. “This will notify her... if you’re hungry... or anything... all right? I’ll be back...”

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but just gave a light squeeze to Jimin’s hand. “I’ll be back.”

Jimin stared at the closed door long after the other had left.

What was happening?

________________________

“So, let me get this straight... you have Park Jimin in your penthouse? And he’s in bad shape? And you’re going to... what? Save him?”

The disbelief in the voice rubbed him raw. “Joon... listen, I know what you think of him, but-“

“Hyung, don’t you think this is all a little too convenient? The one guy that grabbed your attention, the one guy whose father hates you, hates your family, is /dying/ to bury you guys... suddenly he’s right there, needing rescue, right in front of your fucking eyes? And now so conveniently installed in your place?”

“Joon... you didn’t see him... he looked like he was going to pass out on the sidewalk, for fuck’s sake, from the /beating/ he obviously had... that his /father/ gave him... he was /bleeding/ onto his own shoes, Joon...” Yoongi’s frustration was blatant. 

There was silence on the line for a few long moments.

“Where are you now, hyung?”

“I’m taking care of a few things...”

“Hyung... you never said... why... why is Park Jimin so important to you? Why him? You don’t even really /know/ him...” the quiet intensity of his voice made Yoongi unable to dismiss it.

Yoongi took a moment to collect his thoughts, a habit Joon was long used to.

“I don’t think anyone really knows Park Jimin...” his faint words still reached through the line. Yoongi licked his lower lip, thinking... remembering... 

Joon’s sigh said much. “Ok, hyung... but just don’t... don’t jump into anything-“

Yoongi interrupted him before he could say anything else. “When he’s up to it, I’m going to ask him...”

The silence was pregnant.

Yoongi stared out of the car, waiting.

“Ok, hyung... ok.” He could hear the resignation in the other’s voice. “I know we’ve all talked this through... Want me to tell Jin?”

“No... I’ll tell him... I’ll let you know...”

Yoongi ended the call.

****************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Please check out my other fics and find me on twt @starry4yngi


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience.

******************

A week.

He’d been here at Min Yoongi’s for a week, slightly over... 

Jimin had been pampered well, the housekeeper attending to all of his needs, his meals, helping him to bathe, and he’d been getting updates from her on what Yoongi had been up to, apparently traveling to Japan for a few days, and constantly attending meetings and social outings...

Jimin thought that he had had a rigorous schedule... he wasn’t sure if Yoongi actually slept.

Literally.

Aside from checking in on him from time to time, he’d barely seen the other. In fact, he’d seen, and actually become befriended by, an associate and friend of Yoongi’s named Taehyung. 

Taehyung had shown up, a tall, beautiful man, all boxy smiles and endearing solicitousness, explaining that Yoongi had tasked him with shopping for Jimin’s clothes and wardrobe essentials, as well as other things he’d need.

Jimin, at first embarrassed, unsure of what the other would think of Park Jimin, apparently destitute, or that he would draw his own wrongful conclusions as to why Min Yoongi was buying him clothes and keeping him in his home...

“Your dad’s a dick... and scary... and I heard he gave you a really hard time... I get it.” Jimin had blinked at the outspokenness of the other when he ventured to try to explain his situation. “So, what do you think of this fit? Outrageous, right? Yoongi hyung can afford it!’ And saucily added it to their online shopping cart.

A week of healing, a week of sorting through so very many thoughts in his head... and having been given a clean bill of health by Dr. Yang, Yoongi had announced that Jimin was now mobile enough to be on his own, and would be moving to another apartment, if he felt up to it.

Jimin had blanked at that. “An apartment.”

Yoongi had nodded.

“You got me an apartment.”

Yoongi had looked a little chagrined at that. “Um, well, it’s actually one of mine... but it’s been unused for a while... I’ve had it cleaned and stocked...”

Jimin had just stared.

Who was Min Yoongi?

The few times that Jimin had actually managed to see the other, he’d been nothing but solicitous... asking after his health, making sure he had what he needed... Jimin even had a respectable wardrobe of designer clothing and the electronics that were necessities in this day and age.

And he was now being installed in an apartment...

When Jimin hadn’t said anything, Yoongi had looked down, then back up. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do... but I thought the least I could do was give you your privacy...”

“The least you could do...”

Yoongi had looked confused.

“The least you could do was to leave my ass on that sidewalk,... that was the least you could do... and pretend you hadn’t seen a thing...”

Yoongi had looked at him, then shook his head. 

“I could never have done that, Jimin...”

Maybe Jimin had imagined the almost inaudible “... not to you...”

And now, here he was, riding the elevator up with Taehyung, to a very posh building in Gangnam, to a very high floor...

“Wow, hyung gave you a good one...”

Jimin looked at the model-beautiful man. “What?”

Taehyung hummed beneath his breath as the elevator inexorably flew upward. “Oh, hyung has a few places all over... never knew what he’d need or want to do when he was around, and some of his friends would need a place when they were in town, so his family keeps a couple of places ready to go...”

“Oh.”

For some reason, Jimin felt like this made the gesture less special, which was really ridiculous.

“But this one is a really good one...” Taehyung quickly supplied when he caught a glimpse of the other’s expression.

Jimin just smiled smally, and looked up as the doors opened to the floor foyer.

Taehyung led him to one of four doors... they must be pretty spacious.

“Watch.”

Taehyung pushed in the code to the door, and Jimin tried to memorize it, but it was just too much... and it must have showed.

“It’s okay... hyung was going to have you reset it... or have it coded to fingerprints... your choice.”

Jimin blinked as they entered.

It was beautiful.

Hardwood floors, and throw rugs, uplifting original art on the walls, and of course, walls of glass...

Even Taehyung blinked, taking it all in.

“Huh. I don’t remember it being like-“

He broke off, watching the shorter slip off his shoes and roam the space, taking in the shocked visage.

Tae knew about Park Jimin. He had heard and read and seen a lot about Park Jimin. And wondered.

Jimin was a societal darling, a chaebol heir... but he always seemed /different/... he had no discernible close friends... he had various “sets” he was seen with, various acquaintances and dating speculations,... but Tae and his friends... no one they knew knew any of any close friend of Park Jimin... it was like he was kept separate in some way from their world.

When Yoongi had called him and asked him for this favor, Tae had outright refused. His boyfriend had filled him in on his own encounters with Jimin, and Tae wasn’t interested. But when Yoongi had gone into a few details of Jimin’s current situation, and how he’d thought of Tae because they were the same age, and thought Jimin could feel comfortable around the other, Tae had felt his resolve crumbling. 

Jimin spun around to face the taller man. “Is this a joke?”

Tae grinned his boxy grin. “Yoongi hyung always takes care of his friends.”

Jimin shook his head, recognizing some of “his” things already... coats that Tae had ordered were hanging in the open alcove for shoes and such things, shoes and boots were lined up neatly...

He walked further, exploring, and noticed three doors to one side... exploring, he discovered a restroom, then a bedroom. 

The bedroom was beautiful, a large bed, nightstand, a decent sized closet, and its own bathroom... he nodded, thinking he’d be quite comfortable in here, but was surprised to see the closet empty, considering that his coats and shoes and been delivered.

“Guestroom... Yoongi hyung never has them overdecorated...”

Jimin blinked.

“Let’s check out your room.”

Jimin followed the other to the lasts door at that end of the suite, and was taken aback.

It was huge. 

There was a beautiful bed, white and a soft lemon yellow, with pale blues... airy curtains and light blocking blinds... Jimin could see the blinds were electronic, that could probably stretch from floor to ceiling, like the main room, opened almost fully right now... he wandered into the huge walk-in closet, seeing his clothes and shoes taking up very little room in the spacious storage... investigated the bathing room, taking in the beautiful shower and bathing basin, seeing it was capable of hot tub jets... and from the warmth of the floor, could feel that the floor was heated beneath the marble tile...

Jimin’s face looked a little grim, after his awe, and Tae wondered at the expression.

Jimin, completely taken aback by the beautiful and obviously expensive suite, now was consumed by one thought.

What did Min Yoongi expect in return?

Tae had said he took care of his friends... but did he mean friends, or /friends/... because this looked like it was too much, too well appointed,... though nothing screamed out at him, the large bed... the exclusivity of the location...

Tae looked at his watch. His boyfriend would be expecting him downstairs in...

“So... what am I supposed to do now?”

“Huh?”

Tae looked up, having been preoccupied by a message on his phone, seeing the other squaring his shoulders.

Huh,... maybe he was a spoiled little bastard... there was nothing of happiness or even appreciation on the pretty face...

There was a blankness to the face, if you ignored the grimness that pulled his lips into a straight line.

Jimin looked around. “What... did Yoongi ssi say anything about what I’m supposed to do... here...?”

Tae cocked his head. “Um... I guess, live here?”

Jimin huffed a laugh, he couldn’t help himself.

“I mean-“

Tae shot him a grin. “Actually, Jin hyung is on his way up... Yoongi hyung is stuck down in Jeju... he thought he’d be back by now...”

Jimin felt a hard ball in his gut. “Jin hyung?”

“Kim Seokjin.”

Jimin nodded dumbly... one of Yoongi’s closest friends... 

“Okay, I know hyung had the kitchen stocked, his housekeeper made sure your fridge is stocked, and then he’ll talk to you about other things you might want or need... but I have to take off-“

The door suddenly opened, and the remembered handsome and tall man entered, toeing off his shoes without bothering to ring a bell or announcing his entrance with a knock.

Jimin noted the lack of even the most meager token of respect that denoted.

“Tae! Kookie’s waiting for you... I just saw him...”

Though he spoke to the taller man, Jin kept his eyes on Jimin, himself.

Jimin was too startled by the sudden disrespectful appearance and the name the man had used. 

“Tae?”

Tae smiled. “Oh, sorry, all of my friends call me Tae... Yoongi hyung switches it up, though...”

Jimin stared, thinking about where he’d heard the nickname before... Tae and Kookie... /Kookie/...

“You... you’re Jeon Jeongguk’s boyfriend? Tae?”

Tae smiled widely. “Yes! Kookie’s all mine!” At Jimin’s look, he reassured him. “Don’t worry, Kookie told me all about the time you tried to seduce him... it’s okay,... he’s totally hot...” Tae brushed off the awkwardness, but then rounded on him. “But now that you know, hands off, or you’ll find your dick laying next to you one day... on a plate.”

Jimin blinked.

“Okay... gotta go! Bye, Jin hyung! Jimin, I’ll see you soon!”

And he was gone.

Jimin was left with the tall man that had yet to take his eyes off of the other.

Jimin felt small, then realized he was allowing the other to make him feel small. This was /his// place, for now...

“Helllo, Kim Seokjin ssi.”

Jin stared at the other man.

He sighed internally. He had no idea why Yoongi was so invested in this man, but he’d made it more than clear that they were to all accept the idea and try to comply, however much they tried to dissuade him, Yoongi could be a stubborn block... but he usually had good instincts... and good reasons... for the things that he did.

“Jimin.”

Jimin grit his teeth a little at the lack of respect in the tone.

“What can I do for you, Seokjin ssi?”

Jin sighed.

“Let’s have a seat.”

When they were seated, both stiffly, on the furniture, Jin leaned back, staring at the younger.

“Has Yoongi spoken of his expectations of you?”

Ah. Here it comes, Jimin thought.

“No... he has mentioned that he wanted to-“

JIn interrupted him. “So, all of this comes with a price...” Jimin nodded at the other’s pointed look. “Yoongi has had in mind to bring you on board for some time... he was just biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to approach you about... but your altercation with your father seems to have happened at a most opportune time...”

Jimin felt his stomach clench.

“He wanted to approach me to...”

“Work for him.” Jin nodded. 

“Work for him.” Jimin parroted.

“Yes... you’re expected to report to his office tomorrow morning... he’ll have you meet the potential clients tomorrow...”

“/Meet/ the potential clients...” Jimin echoed, a sick feeling spreading within.

“Yes...” Jin cocked his head at the grim, paling look on the other’s face. 

“And exactly what am I supposed to-“

Ah. He was nervous.

“Nothing that you haven’t done before, he assured us.” Jin interrupted, unheeding of the almost resentful betrayal in the other’s eyes. “We weren’t too sure... but Yoongi convinced us you were perfect for it... that you’re good at what you do...”

Jimin heard nothing else... /good at what you do/... 

His father’s words came back to him... ‘you do what you are good at... what you are good /for/... never forget’...

“Jimin? Okay?”

Jimin swung his eyes to the older man, his face grim. “I guess I don’t really have a choice right now, do I?”

Jin looked startled, then felt a little disgust settle within. /This/ was what Yoongi felt would complete their plans? This ungrateful, grim little-

“Well, Jimin... I guess you don’t /have/ to... but it certainly makes you look a little-“

Jimin stood suddenly. “I’ll be there, Seokjin ssi... don’t worry... let Yoongi ssi know...”

Jin eyed the other, wary, not liking the grim expression nor the abruptness. Ungrateful spoiled brat.

“You know the building? I’ll text you the address...”

“Thank you, but if you don’t mind, I’d like the rest of the day to myself... to, ah... prepare...”

Jin stood, still eyeing the other, then nodded. 

“How should I dress?” Jimin suddenly asked, as Jin opened the door to leave.

Jin’s face turned quizzical. “Does it matter?”

And Jimin’s expression shuttered.

He nodded, hearing the door automatically lock behind the man.

Does it matter?

Of course not... not if it was all just to come off.

Jimin sank down on the couch, all of his burgeoning hopefulness burned away, and all of his misgivings coming home to roost.

Min Yoongi just wanted to use him, just as his father did.

Meet potential /clients/... plural.

Jimin walked over to the small wine fridge and pulled out a bottle of champagne.

He popped it open and drank straight from the bottle, uncaring of the medication he still took when he overexerted.

After all, he’d be overexerting himself tomorrow, wouldn’t he?

________________________

Jimin blinked behind his dark sunglasses as he rode the elevator up to Min Yoongi’s floor.

He’d drank most of the bottle of champagne, floundering in the disaster that was his life, then passed out on the couch, awoken by his phone going off. There were messages from Seokjin with the address and exhortations to not be late.

There was even one from Yoongi, telling him he was looking forward to his meetings tomorrow.

Meetings.

Plural.

Jimin had barely eaten, thinking about how everyone, Taehyung, Seokjin,... Jeongguk... Namjoon... they did, or would, all know what he did, does... what he’d be doing for Min Yoongi, now, instead of for his father...

But what choices did he have?

He’d reached out to some of his acquaintances, and none were willing, or in a position, to help him.

There were already rumors of his father... that he’d thrown his son out of his company... nothing concrete, but people knew there was something unsavory being bruited about regarding the chaebol heir... and Jimin was sure his father was at the root of it.

He couldn’t even get a hold of his mother.

So here he was, and as he exited the elevator, slipping off his sunglasses to hang off the neckline of his button blouse, he stepped into the marbled foyer of the floor and was greeted by a petite, attractive woman already awaiting him. 

“Park Jimin ssi?”

He nodded, taking in her expression, noting the pleasantness of her mien, noting that nothing about his appearance changed it.

Jimin had dressed for his ‘meetings’, and it made him a little conspicuous in the office atmosphere.

But if this was what Min Yoongi expected, this was what Min Yoongi would get.

His silver-grey hair was artfully tousled, looking sexy and mussed, and he’d carefully lined and shadowed his eyes, turning his normally boyish, charming look into something more sultry,... almost siren-like...

He’d also tinted and glossed his full, plump lips, enhancing the already plush, lush pout of his sinful mouth.

Jimin had slipped into a soft silk blouse, unbuttoned enough to slip and show much of one shoulder, and his perfectly fitted trousers hugged his ass and thighs, drawn tight over his crotch as well.

Tasteful? Not completely.

Seductive?

Easily.

“Please follow me, sir.”

Jimin strutted after her, ignoring the looks he could feel following him, burning holes in his back.

Fuck them.

Fuck all of them.

Fuck Kim Seokjin.

Fuck Kim Namjoon.

Fuck Taehyung.

Fuck Jeon Jeongguk.

Fuck his father.

Fuck Min Yoongi.

“You’re expected.”

/I bet I fucking am/ he thought as the petite woman threw open the door at the end of a long hall, and Jimin drew in his breath, standing even taller in his immaculate Italian leather shoes, and sauntered in to-

Wait.

Jimin’s eyes flew around the room.

It was nothing as he’d expected.

The room was expansively large, hard wood floors... and the walls were lined with huge mirrors... 

There were seats grouped in a corner, being taken up by a few men and women he didn’t know, but also Kim Namjoon and Min Yoongi,... and standing in the middle of the room was a small group of young men, all dressed in workout clothing... tights, sweats... tees and hoodies... and all looked to him with large, surprised eyes.

What the fuck was this?

Yoongi looked completely startled, eyes traveling over Jimin’s entire ensemble, but quickly smoothed out his expression before Jimin could register what it was.

Even as Kim Namjoon released a hissing, disbelieving breath, Yoongi had brushed fingers against the other’s shoulder as he stood and quickly walked over to Jimin, all of the eyes on the two of them.

“Yoongi ssi?”

There was a vulnerability in the voice that surprised the both of them.

“Jimin... thank you for coming...” he said openly, then under his breath as he took the other’s hand, “Jin hyung explained, didn’t he?”

Jimin followed unresistingly, still unable to make sense of what was happening, what he was seeing.

“He said... he said you wanted me to work for you... to do what he heard I was good at... meeting potential clients for you...” Jimin whispered as softly as he could as they made their way to the seated men.

“... asshole...” Yoongi cursed under his breath, startling Jimin.

Jimin was still uncomprehending as Yoongi stopped in front of the other men and women, and turned them both to face the two disparate groups, standing and sitting.

“Everyone, this is Park Jimin ssi...” Jimin looked around at the two very different groups. 

“He’s the new head of our Talent Scouting and Evaluation team, Dance and Idol Division.”

Jimin turned to look at an expansively smiling Min Yoongi... and blinked.

What the fuck?

*****************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and drop kudos if you’re enjoying - really unsure if this is hitting anyone’s interest...
> 
> Those comments keep authors going... especially this one!
> 
> Find me on twt @starry4yngi and check out my other fics if you like this one... I’m all about the Yoonmin and their happy endings, even if it takes a bit to get there!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.
> 
> Here we go.

********************

Jimin sat folded on one knee beneath him, the other leg bent with knee up, his arms wrapped around it, chin resting.

He looked at himself in the wall mirror... running the entire length of the practice studio room...

... in his apartment... in the apartment Min Yoongi had provided him with.

He was more than half-bewildered by the unexpected position he found himself in...

After his inauspicious, but unforgettable, introduction to the people in the practice room, he was soon lost watching the young dancers, some more competent than others, seeing various levels of professionalism, but also some undeveloped raw talent.

Jimin, though he had been watching the dancers avidly, was mulling through many thoughts with part of his mind.

How did Min Yoongi know he had a dancing background?

What made Min Yoongi think he was in any way fit for the kind of position he had just assigned to him?

Was all of this a joke?

Jimin learned that the group sitting with them were comprised of the advising and coaching staff... the voice and dance instructors and mentors the promising candidates would be working with...

And again, Jimin had to wonder what he was doing there... what Min Yoongi was thinking.

And Min Yoongi was starting, or had started, an entertainment company?

Really?

After thanking and dismissing the dancers, Yoongi had said goodbye to everyone else, reminding them of another meeting, then shot Kim Namjoon a look.

“I’ll talk to Jin hyung.” The chagrined man had avowed, Yoongi looking less than happy.

“Come on...” Jimin found the sleeve of his blouse being gently tugged by the elder, and followed him, out of the room, back down the hall, to the foyer where the elevators stood.

Jimin, looking around, was embarrassed to hear a gurgle from his gut... he’d been too uptight to eat anything... and wasn’t sure that what he thought he’d be doing, he’d want to be doing on a full stomach... or with anything in his stomach at all...

Yoongi looked at him, a little tight-lipped, then nodded. “Let’s get something to eat?”

Jimin nodded, still a little lost.

They didn’t speak in the elevator, nor the short walk down a few blocks to an almost-hidden little noodle shop, where Yoongi greeted the ancient woman, who was wiping a table with a towel, like a lost relative.

“Halmeoni! Your best table for two!” He smiled... the smile with gums showing, making Jimin’s stomach dip, and not in hunger.

“Ah! Yoongi-yah!... Come, come... I have the worst seat in the house for you... but since you have such a pretty guest, I can seat you in our best...”

They grinned at one another as she gestured to a booth next to the window, in the front corner.

As they slid into place, Yoongi studied Jimin’s face, then looked warmly at the woman. “Ah, Halmeoni, two of your hangover specials... the mackerel... and mondu...” and looking at Jimin, “One bottle of soju.”

Jimin’s face blanched at the addition of alcohol.

Yoongi shook his head at him. “Sometimes the only thing that helps is a little more alcohol the next day.”

After setting bottles of water on the table, their flatware and chopsticks, a bottle of soju and and a sweet smile, the tiny lady left them alone.

Jimin looked at the table, playing with the rings he’d slipped on his fingers... some of the pieces he’d found in the jewelry box he’d been provided with, along with his wardrobe.

“So... I’m glad Jin prepared you so well for today...” Yoongi began, his tone dry.

Jimin’s eyes flew up. 

Yoongi looked over his expression, noting the tenseness, the confusion... the dark circles under his eyes, regardless of the make-up.

“Jimin... I /know/ Jin hyung didn’t implicitly mislead you... but I’m a little confused how the two of you crossed wires... I spoke with him, and he said you didn’t seem at all eager... more... resigned?... maybe, pissed?... when he mentioned offering you the position... and then you showed up...”

Jimin, with slightly trembling hands, poured them each a small glass of the soju, and picking it up with two hands, turned away from the elder, shooting back the liquid.

He thought he’d be nauseous at the first hit of alcohol in his belly again, but was surprised to find... it felt... better.

Yoongi downed his drink, eyes still on the younger.

“Um,... well, hyung... SeokJin ssi didn’t really /offer/ me a position, so much as tell me I should show up prepared to do /what I’m good at/...” Jimin trailed off.

Yoongi drew in a deep breath. “And after meeting me... after seeing each other... you thought...”

Jimin blew out his cheeks. “Yeah... he said you wanted me to ‘meet with potential clients’, that it wasn’t anything I hadn’t done before...”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened.

“So you thought I wanted you to...” Jimin looked up at the disbelief in the other’s voice, then nodded.

Yoongi blew out threw his nose, shaking his head.

“Jimin... do you know when I first saw you?”

Jimin leaned back, nodding his head. “That morning... the charity weekend... early morning at the lake... I think you had arrived shortly before-“ he broke off, seeing Yoongi shaking his own head, refuting his words.

“Jimin... I saw you years ago...”

Jimin looked at him confusion. “What? When?”

Yoongi opened his mouth, but the little grandmother had returned pushing a cart, and with much fussing, put stone bowls in front of each of them, broth still bubbling, noodles glistening, and arranged the side dishes, as well as the rice and mackerel, and Jimin’s mouth watered at the sight of the platter of mondu, too.

Yoongi smiled and thanked the little woman, and as she bustled away, exhorting them to eat well, especially the too-skinny one, meaning Jimin.

Yoongi motioned for Jimin to begin, and he gratefully tucked into his bowl, using his spoon to capture some broth first, then grabbing his metal chopsticks to dig into the pile of noodles peaking up from the broth and islands of floating vegetables, slurping up the long strings, almost ready to moan from the taste and texture.

Yoongi watch, Jimin unheeding, with a small smile before beginning on his own meal.

“You said you saw me before? When?” Jimin returned to their conversation they had started before the food arrived. He looked at the side dishes, picking up some chongakimchi, and looking at Yoongi attentively as he chewed, already feeling comfort and confidence come flooding back with the meal... and perhaps the light touch of alcohol.

Yoongi chewed thoughtfully, watching the other, then nodded. “Yeah... it was actually a few times-“

Jimin made a noise of astonishment before pouring them both more soju.

Yoongi continued, delicately flaking some of the mackerel and placed it in his mouth with rice before continuing. “Yeah... I think... hmmm... I was maybe seventeen?... You were pretty young.”

Jimin was shocked, his chopsticks stopping mid-air. What?

He tried to think back, even as he digested that information. “But I don’t think we were ever in the same school?... I’m pretty sure my father would have noticed and said something... dug /something/ up if we would have-“

Yoongi was shaking his head. “No... not at school... you were competing... it was a dance competition...”

Jimin blinked, not noticing the other positioning the sides he was favoring closer to him.

“You... you danced?...” Jimin looked at him, astonished that he knew Jimin danced, and that /he/-

Yoongi denied it quickly. “No, god, no... I’m not a dancer... Musician, not dancer... but I saw you... a friend of mine, I got to know him through Jin hyung, way back... he was really into the competitions... contemporary... like you...”

Jimin was completely dumbfounded. Min Yoongi had seen him when he was in his teens... when he’d happily been indulging in his passion for dance... running to competitions, happily lost in his world of music and movement, the close friends he’d once had... until...

He realized Yoongi was still speaking. ‘... incredible... more than that... your talent... it was like you were /born/ to dance...” Yoongi’s eyes shone as he looked to Jimin, and flushing, Jimin looked down, this time he who shook his head. 

“Hyung... that was... that was a long time ago... and... I wasn’t... I wasn’t that good... I was just... I mean, I guess I thought I was more than I was, really... and luckily, I found out before I could embarrass myself any longer-“

Yoongi was the one lost in confusion this time. “What are you talking about?”

Jimin continued, think about that time. “Yeah... I didn't realize that my father had been behind all of those competitions,... paying them off, hoping I’d be satisfied with a few trophies... and I was too stupid, too caught up to realize it was all set up... that I thought I had real talent...” 

Jimin didn’t notice the other staring at him, eyes narrowed.

Jimin chuckled self-disparagingly. “Oh, god,... I’m cringing just thinking about-“ He stopped, then looked to Yoongi in horror. “Oh, my god, is that why you think I could be part of your dance evaluation department?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, hyung... that... you have real dancers... I was just...” he laughed, with a touch of still lingering bitterness. “I was just a rich kid with a head full of delusional dreams... of my so-called talent... whose daddy tried to soften the blow of the truth...”

He stopped, staring at the wet ring from his water, his meal sitting heavily in his stomach...

He remembered the joy, the confidence... he thought he’d found what he was meant to do... what he had been /born/ to do... he remembered, still feeling the queasy grip of shame in his gut, his /gall/ in trying to give advice to other dancers when they would ask him, he thought, with admiration and respect, seeing him win again and again. 

Now... now he knew... his father had paid everyone... to let him think he’d accomplished something, and would be ready to move on to something more serious... but he hadn’t. He’d been so caught up in his joy, his passion, to recognize that it was all a farce... an illusion set up by his father. That he had no real talent... that he was ridiculous...

The hallway, after his last win, when he had just hugged a good “friend” and fellow dancer, who Jimin had thought looked at him so admiringly, a hand lingering at his waist, when he’d suddenly felt the iron grip from behind, the startled look on the other boy’s face... and being slammed into the wall for the first time.

It was the first time Jimin had seen his father at a competition, the first time his father had ever seen him dance... and the last time Jimin had danced, his father, purple with undetonated anger, furiously berating him for his ‘fucking delusional’ behavior... that he had won /nothing/... that he’d patiently been waiting for Jimin to grow the fuck up and realize what was happening... 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jimin broke from his memories to look up at the elder.

Yoongi was staring at him, a confused scowl on his brow, his hands on the table.

“What... what do you mean?” Jimin tried to anchor back to the present.

Yoongi stared at him, just blinking, as if he were trying to work through something. 

“Jimin...” he started, then staring at him, starting swearing.

Jimin, startled, just stared at the other.

“Holy mother fucking dogshit piece of trash...” were the only intelligible words that Jimin could decipher from the the elder’s muttered diatribe of profanity.

“Jimin...” the chestnut blond took in a large breath. “Jimin... he was full of shit... /totally/ full of shit... those were /legitimate/ competitions... those were in /no way/ set up... how the fuck could he do that to you?... holy shit...”

Jimin stared, unable to comprehend the words coming out of the other’s mouth.

What?... what was Yoongi talking about...

Yoongi swore even more creatively, leaning forward. “Jimin, listen to me... those were all legitimate competitions... I mean, how could you think he had the foresight to do something like that... the pull?... my friends... I mean, I was /in/ some of those sponsored competitions, in the music performance divisions... but I saw you... I /saw/ you... your talent... you are a gifted dancer, Jimin... your physical musicality... I mean...” Yoongi lost his words staring at the dumbfounded look of the other. “Your pieces were some of the most beautiful performances I’ve ever seen... I /always/ remembered them... remembered /you/...”

Jimin’s face... Yoongi instinctively reached out to take one of the hands that seemed to be gripping the table top for support. “Jimin... it was real... every trophy... every competition... every judge...”  
JImin stared at him.

Real?

The competitions...

The judges...

Jimin couldn’t speak... he just felt tears well up in his eyes, feel a rising fist in his throat... heart pounding... he had been made to think he was a joke... that his father had to bankroll judges to try to get him through a self-indulgent phase... and so he’d ashamedly given it all up, humiliated, throwing himself fully into university, into his double major of marketing and economics... and all he could think of...

“Why?” He whispered..., eyes large, chin trembling... “... why does he hate me so much?... how could he hate me /so much/?”

He hadn’t even known then that his father hated him... just thought he’d grossly disappointed him with his delusions of grandeur, his childish aspirations to become a great dancer... and that his father had seen signs that perhaps his only son wasn’t everything he wanted... that perhaps even his sexuality wasn’t as expected...

“I... I gave it all up... I was so ashamed... I was so embarrassed... I thought I’d been played... that everyone was in on it and just laughing at me behind my back...” he burned all over again, remembering the humiliation he’d felt, thinking that he’d been set up so thoroughly... that they’d all been jeering the Park chaebol... and that his father had been trying to do him a kindness that he’d taken too far...

Jimin had left the theatre that day, dumping his dance bag in the trash, ignoring the call outs of his “friends”, the boy who’d hugged him with a little something more... ignored the calls and emails he’d received, for auditions, for competitions, to come back and perform as a prior winner...

He’d been eighteen, and never went back into a dance studio again.

Yoongi still gripped his hand, feeling the brittle coldness of the small fingers.

“Jimin... you are one of the most talented, natural dancers I’ve ever seen... and trust me, I’ve seen many...”

“Was.”

“What?”

Jimin looked up grimly. “Was. If I ever was, but /was/, hyung. I gave up dancing long ago...”

Yoongi held his eyes. “Jimin, that kind of passion, that kind of gift... it doesn't go away...” Yoongi released the other’s hand when he saw the soft brown eyes fixed on their hands. “I never heard about you dancing again... after a while, I thought you’d decided to focus on uni... that’s all I’d heard about you after... aside from the society stuff...”

Jimin looked at him in confusion, “You followed me?”

Yoongi had a tinge of pink in his cheeks. “Well... I just always wondered... just... what happened to you... the dancing... it was...”

And Yoongi had gone on to explain how he’d been backstage on multiple occasions, witnessing Jimin encouraging other dancers, helping them evaluate performances... praising their strengths and perhaps what they might want to concentrate on... sharing his own practice tips... without thought of holding back in view of future competitions...

He’d told Jimin he thought he was so selfless, with such a thoughtful heart... always urging others to reach their potentials through careful hard work...

Jimin had listened in silence, and continued to pick at his food at Yoongi’s urging, listening to him explain how he, himself, was passionate about music, more so than his family business, but unlike Jimin, his family had fully supported him, just advising him to keep using stage names and pseudonyms... not from shame, but to protect the infant career he and his friends were trying to launch... 

Jimin had had no idea Min Yoongi was a performer, that his friends performed with him, wrote music... and that they’d long nursed a dream to create a business for truly talented musicians and dancers... regardless of background or connections... a safe place in an unsafe business...

And thinking of it, Yoongi had come back, again and again, to Park Jimin, not able to let go of the idea that Park Jimin would be a necessary element to his vision of his company, remembering the young boy, so gifted, so willing to help others embark upon their own journey to reach their potentials...

Jimin had become silent, and after the meal, silently agreed that he’d like to go back to ‘his’ apartment.

He’d been slightly confused when Yoongi asked if the space he’d had set up especially for him was to his liking, and Jimin had nodded, thinking about how beautifully the apartment had been appointed.

When Yoongi had encouraged him to call him if he needed anything else for his ‘studio’, Jimin had just shaken his head in negation, unsure of what he was talking about.

So Yoongi had dropped him off, and asked if he’d like to have dinner later... and Jimin had looked pensive, unsure,... having been hit with so very many things today...

“Okay.” Yoongi had said abruptly. “It’s a lot... I get it... you have my number, let me know, ok?...” But the soft look in his eyes didn’t hold to his brusque words.

So Jimin had said a quiet goodbye in the car, then, slipping his shoes off when he got to his place, had quietly padded to his bedroom, peeling off his fitted pants and blousy shirt,... had removed his makeup... and jumped into the shower, just wanting to wash some of his memories away...

After slipping into cozy joggers and soft henley, he had gone back to the kitchen, making himself a cup of tea.

As he went to sit down, he realized there was a section of the apartment he hadn’t even looked at yet.

He padded down the opposite hall, the one away from the bedrooms... expecting possibly more guest rooms... and found another small bathroom, and at the end...

He’d entered in wonder, the afternoon light streaming through the windows, reflecting from the wall of mirrors. 

He saw the barre lining one side, the Bluetooth speakers... the shining golden wood floors...

A dance studio. 

Min Yoongi had given him a practice studio in his apartment.

Jimin had just stood there, looking at himself... standing in a dance studio for the first time in years (aside from the confusion of that morning)... trying to take it all in...

He stood there, unable to name the emotions that clogged his throat, that pounded within his chest.

Jimin stood, shoulders down, arms limp, jaw slack... staring... thinking... remembering... feeling...

And, keeping eyes on his own reflection, he had suddenly thrown out a pointed leg, and, bringing his arms in, /turned/...

Twenty minutes passed as he danced for himself, danced for the first time, in years, just to the music in his head,... the emotions in his heart.

So here he was, now, folded up on himself, sitting on the floor of his own practice studio, light sweat drying in his hair, trying to figure out what was happening.

Jimin was trying to process so many things... his reality... it wasn’t what he thought... /again/...

His father... his father was monstrous... his father had taken so many things away... so very many things... everything, really... he had made Jimin believe that the one thing he knew he was good at... the one gift he thought he had... was a lie...

His father had herded him into becoming what he believed he should be to make his father proud... but even giving up the one thing he had been passionate about... it hadn’t been enough... and being at the top of his class... that hadn’t been enough... learning the business, interning... still not enough... the disgust when his father found out about his ‘proclivities’ as his father termed it while he was still in uni... had cemented the man’s disgust of him... and that was when he had started using Jimin,... telling him that finally he could be of use to the company, help the company... not with his knowledge, not with his insights and acquired experience, but with himself... the attraction people felt for him... sucking clit and taking cock... fucking and being fucked by some of the most affluential people associated with their company... all for his father...

Sung-hwa used him like a whore on payroll, but... still..., ... the most painful realization was still... it was this... it was that the tiny, sheltered glimmer of hope that he had hidden, deep under the layers of disdain, of laissez faire... the tiny flicker of feeling... that his father did care for him, did care about him... even when he had compromised his own son so thoroughly, and taken everything away... Jimin realized he had still had this tiny, stubborn... /stupid/ hope... that his father, somewhere deep inside of him... /did/ care about his...

... but now, knowing what he’d been told, the cruel lies and machinations his father had fabricated...

Maybe that was the most hurtful... that his own /father/ could... that he /does/... hate him... so... very... /much/...

And his father had made sure he was as alone as he could be.

At this point, he was most likely a pariah to anyone with any ties to the company,... he still hadn’t heard from his own mother.

And Yoongi.

Min Yoongi.

Jimin stared at himself, seeing the messy, unsettled hair... the cheeks pale and drawn, eyes large and fraught with so many emotions... Jimin looked at himself... feeling small in the big place... looking small in the wall of mirrors...

... and his phone buzzed.

Looking down, he saw a green banner with a question mark and food emojis...

... and realized... 

... maybe he wasn’t so alone...

Jimin reached out for the phone next to him, pulling up the recent calls.

“Hello?”

“Um, hey, hyung...”

***********************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, especially to those that like it and are leaving kudos and comments, letting me know.
> 
> The kudos, compared to hits, is really... like, 🥴😳 wow... almost less than one person out of 100 is enjoying?🤡😂🤣
> 
> Holy shit...
> 
> Oh well... I can’t stop something I started, so, I’m driving this car home...💩
> 
> Let me know if you like 😝 or continue enjoying, you almost-less-than-one-percent... you’re my favorites😘
> 
> Maybe try one of my other fics... and find my ass on twt @starry4yngi if you want to thirst over yoonmin together...
> 
> Oh, and Legato readers... I see you!.... thank you😘😘😘
> 
> You keep my heart going!!!!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi... this is a little shorter... hope you enjoy...

********************

Jimin slung his bag over his shoulder, running to swipe his phone from the counter and slip shoes on.

Tae was meeting him downstairs. They had a full day... and Jimin was supposed to begin interviewing to fill positions for his own staff. Tae would be helping until Jimin got himself situated, since Yoongi was again off on a business trip.

As he rode the elevator down, Jimin thought of the past few days, still agog at how much his life had changed.

Dinner that night with Yoongi had been a revelation... over chicken and beer, Yoongi had detailed the dreams he and Namjoon had of their brain baby... and how they’d gotten the support of their families, still upholding their roles within their families’ businesses, but making a plan to have a separate entity in the entertainment business.

Jimin had listened intently, noting to himself how carefully the other spoke, sharing not only the vision of the future, but the work and effort that would be required to get them there. And then how each person had been carefully chosen, completely because of their own talents and drive... which brought him to circle to Jimin.

Yoongi had again emphasized all of the reasons he’d held open the position just for Jimin, hoping to have the talented young man in house for them. When Jimin objected about his lack of professional dance experience, Yoongi countered that if Jimin wanted to eventually work to choreo and perform, well and good, but what he needed was Jimin’s innate eye for talent, like his own, and the unteachable desire to foster that in others, seeing strengths to build upon, and weaknesses to turn into an attribute for that dancer... 

Jimin, quietly absorbing the other’s words, internally wasn’t sure whether he was collapsing or being built back up...

As Yoongi was outlining his plan to begin to incorporate Jimin into their company, his duties and responsibilities, the /staff/ he was going to need to coordinate... Jimin’s mind was immediately taken with the vision, the duties... and at the same time, he was waiting to hear the other say it was... a mistake... he had thought Jimin was someone else...

As Yoongi sketched out the details for the next few days for Jimin, having posted notices for assistants, travel coordinators, managers... Jimin furiously typing notes into his laptop, presented to Jimin upon his arrival at the chicken restaurant.

Jimin leaned back.

“What?” Yoongi looked quizzically back at him.

“Sure you have the right guy?” Jimin stared, unblinking.

Yoongi sighed, putting his clasped hands on the table before him, then minutely tilted his head. “Jimin... you have an execrable father... apparently you’ve had a shit life... you are /not/ a shit person... you think I’d bring you on board because I was all starry-eyed and crushing on an exceptional talent?...” Jimin swallowed. “I know you graduated at the top of your class... I know you have not only the discerning eye for talent, but knowledge and skills to be a beast in business...”

Jimin stared, unable to speak.

“Your father has no idea what he has, what he’s been wasting... for whatever sick reasons that are inside of him... look at his hate for my family, my father... me... all because my mother chose someone else...”

Yoongi looked at him squarely, nudging the table to get his attention. “I want you because of your /skills/ and talents... in the boardroom, in business, and dance...”

Jimin swallowed thickly. “Thank you,... thank you Yoongi ssi...” at his look, he amended, “ hyung... thank you. I will work hard...”

Yoongi smiled, a small upward tilt of his mouth. “I know you will, Jimin... that’s why you’re here...”

He grabbed his glass and took a pull of his beer. 

Jimin took a bite of his chicken, trying to process all they’d spoken of... all that Yoongi was handing him-

“I’m not /giving/ you anything, Jimin...” and Jimin looked up, shocked at the other seemingly reading his mind. “... you are being brought on board because we want your talents...”

Jimin nodded, pulling his own beer to his lips.

“But...”

Jimin stopped, startled.

“Your father...”

JImin put his mug down with a grimace.

Yoongi’s face went blank. “He’s making threats...”

Jimin blinked, not understanding. “What? Why?”

Yoongi stared at him, then sighed. “He wants you back... I’ve heard your family has lost a few... prior deals...”

Jimin felt a sick pitfall in his belly. His father had thrown him away, expecting him to crawl back... and he hadn’t.

Jimin stared at the laptop. 

“So...”

Jimin’s mind spun... trying to figure out why Yoongi had sat here, building this dream of a future, a dream journey pioneering anew career for himself, embarking on something he’d never have imagined... just to tell him his father-

“Do I get to tell him to fuck off?”

Jimin’s eyes whipped to the other.

“You’d-“

Yoongi leaned forward. “Jimin. Nothing... /nothing/ would give me more pleasure that to tell your father to fuck off... and watch him have to watch us... /you/... succeed...”

Jimin met the other’s dark eyes, the fierce promise in them, and licking his lower lip, nodded. “Yes...” Jimin thought about how his father had apparently been trying to bring him down for most of his life... setting him up to be a tool... used and used... Jimin set his chin. “... one thing, though... /I’d/ like to tell him to fuck off, hyung.”

Yoongi looked at him in complete satisfaction.

________________________________

Jimin stood tall, surveying himself in the mirror. 

Yoongi had texted him, asking him if he was ready to make his first social appearance with the rest of them... there was a charity mixer with silent auction that was being held at the cultural center, a lot of people in their families’ circles as well the entertainment industry, and Yoongi had purchased two tables at the benefit.

Jimin had graciously acquiesced, and hadn’t been surprised to find someone had met him in his office to escort him to pick out his ensemble from their private fashion studio.

Yoongi had brushed aside his objections, insisting that they were all doing the same, except Tae, who kept exclaiming over the Gucci ensemble he’d had on reserve for their next big event.

Now, seeing himself, Jimin had to smile, seeing how well he looked in his perfectly cut attire, the jewelry on loan, but still looking captivating, at his ears, on his fingers, and his throat.

His phone buzzed... Tae.

“Hey gorgeous! Ready? Jin hyung and Joon hyung are coming to get you, and Jin wanted you to be ready... he hates being late.”

Jimin nodded before remembering Tae couldn’t see him. “Yeah, no problem... how are you getting there?”

There was a muffled sound as Tae spoke to someone, then returned with “Yoongi hyung and his date are going to pick us up...”

Jimin felt a sudden pit opening in his stomach.

“Y-Yoongi hyung has a date?” He asked, trying to cover his initial stumble.

“Oh, yeah... apparently he brought her back from his business trip to Japan.” Tae seemed distracted. “Oh! They’re early! Okay, I have to go... we’ll see you soon!” The call ended.

And Jimin stared at himself... and felt as if the entire evening had just gone down the toilet... that the past weeks had been... why did he feel betrayal... a chasm opening inside of him.

Yoongi had a date. 

Yoongi was dating.

And he’d never said a word.

Her.

A woman.

Jimin continued to stare at himself, searching his dark eyes, his silvered hair... his immaculately attired physique.

He slowly breathed out.

He was fine.

Yoongi had never intimated that he...

All of the little interactions... the weighted looks... it was all in his head... he’d read too much into it... business interest was all Yoongi had been interested in... he’d wanted Jimin to join the company... not... and that was fine... Yoongi had told him he was interested in his talent, his abilities in business... 

Jimin stared at himself, still, refusing... refusing to brook the emotions that were roiling within him...

His phone went off.

Jin and Namjoon were downstairs.

Jimin slipped the phone into his pocket and headed out.

____________________________

“You should slow down.” 

The furious whisper was delivered under the pretext of showing Jimin the evening’s menu of silent auction items.

Jimin leaned away from Jin, downing the rest of his dirty martini, busy smiling at the man at the next table, who was returning the look with something much more heated.

“Okay, /eomma/... but, exactly why should I do that?” Jimin turned his hooded look back at his elder, ignoring the stiff smile that the handsome man had pasted on his face.

“Jimin, I fucking swear to god, if you fuck up this evening for us...”

Jimin cocked his head to the side. “What? How could I do that? I’m just... you know, getting /acquainted/ with potential networking candidates, right?”

Jin’s brows beetled. “You weren’t hired to /network/ for /this/ company,” came the hiss, which served as a reminding slap to the younger.

Jimin’s eyes became pitfalls of vulnerability, then hardened. “Whatever, Jinnie /hyung/... you’re not the boss of me...” and he picked up the wine on the table, ready to pour himself a glass.

“I am.”

Jimin’s hand jerked, and before he could pour the wine directly on the table, a large hand had smoothly tipped the bottle up, taking it from his smaller grasp.

Jimin looked over to meet dark canted eyes, eyes that were zeroed in on his, intense, but curiously blank.

Suddenly, he was aware that they were being watched, and licked his lower lip, watching Yoongi /not/ take the bottle away, but continue a smooth pour, then gently set the bottle back on the table, offering the half full glass to Jimin with a small, pleasant smile. “It should be a good vintage... they usually skimp on the food to splurge on the liquor and wine.”

Jimin, suddenly self-conscious, brought the glass to his lips, letting the wine just wet his lips. “Delicious.”

Yoongi nodded smally, then seated himself next to him. “I haven’t seen you all night... how is everything?”

As Yoongi had sat, Jin had eased away from them, his effort to keep his impatience from his expression not completely successful.

Jimin eyed his glass, flickering his gaze to the elder, before training it back on the vaguely pale gold liquid. “You seemed busy... very busy...”

Yoongi stared, and though his expression was still pleasant, Jimin sensed a certain coldness in his gaze.

“I /am/ busy, Jimin... very busy... trying to get our business off the ground and making sure everything runs smoothly... and I like to think we are /all/ busy trying to accomplish that...” 

Yoongi picked the bottle back up and poured himself a drink. He swirled the liquid in the glass before sipping, holding the stem of the glass, and considering the taste of the wine “Hmmmm... could be better...”

“The wine or me?”

Yoongi looked back to Jimin, then smiled, letting his gums show. “You’re really a brat, aren’t you?”

Jimin wasn’t in the mood to play. He just shrugged, looking away... only to see the slim, atrociously attractive Japanese woman that had been clinging to Yoongi all night staring back at them... well, specifically, at /him/.

“I think /someone/ is getting pissed at being left alone.” Jimin said, looking at the woman, then raised his glass, taking a healthy sip, refusing to look at the elder.

Yoongi studied him, then nodded. “Yes... I think he is...”

Jimin barely stopped himself from spitting out his wine and accidentally met the other’s sober gaze.

“Jimin, your father is here and is on his way...”

Jimin’s heart started to beat faster, not just because of the other’s earlier statement.

His father was here.

“You have all of us here... if he says anything... tries anything... we are all here for you...”

Jimin licked his lips, suddenly wishing he was either more sober or more intoxicated... just something more than he was now...

Sensing that the younger wasn’t ready to meet with his father yet, said, “Come with me... there are a few people I’d like you to meet...” and suddenly, as they stood, there was the girl, who barely came to Jimin’s eyes, even in her stiletto heels.

“Jimin, I’d like you to meet Aiko Ito... Aiko, this is Park Jimin...”

The woman pursed a tiny mouth, then stretched it into a gentle smile, the mole at the corner of her mouth earning Jimin’s immediate condemnation, being too charming. “Ah, Park Jimin ssi, it’s a pleasure to meet you... I have heard much of you...”

And Jimin was unsure of what to make of her gentle look, feeling Yoongi’s eyes on them.

“Ah, Min Yoongi... and my /son/...”

Jimin’s blood ran cold at the unctuous tones and the large, meaty hand that was laid on his shoulder, beginning a familiar vise-like squeeze...

Yoongi’s face immediately looked bored, looking over at the older man, and Jimin forced himself to turn, shrugging his shoulder, to meet his father face to face... and immediately regretted it, seeing who was by his side.

The CEO who’d used him at the charity weekend... who had fucked his mouth... and used him like a toy to help land his father the meeting with his company.

The fat, swarthy man was already licking thick, greasy-looking lips, small beady eyes looking over him hungrily.

Jimin’s head swam.

“Ah, here is your son, Jung-Hwa... you’ve been hiding, Jimin... but we’ve found you...” and licked his lips again, blatantly staring at his own mouth, his jowls quivering with his anticipatory smile.

“Ah,... how do you do...” Jimin gave a small bow, unprepared for this kind of meeting, his father watching him with predatory elation.

Yoongi was taking it all in, the woman at his side quiet.

“Min Yoongi, do you know our good /friend/?...” the sneer in Park Jung-Hwa’s voice was all too evident to everyone. “He’s become a /particular/ friend of Jimin’s, isn’t that right, son?” 

Jimin stood, frozen, as the rotund man laughed and stepped closer to him. “Ah, Jimin... there’s no need to be so formal... we’ve gotten to know one another /far/ too well for that...” and let a thick finger touch his thigh... close...

Jimin could feel shame and paralyzing fear wash over him, shocked at the man’s effrontery.

He could stand up to his father... he was ready to face his father... he had a new position with a new company... he had /earned/ his position... he was wanted for his abilities... he was becoming surrounded by some new people that didn’t want... didn’t want /things/ from him,...but this man... to bring this man with him,... his father... his father truly hated him...

The fat man looked to his father and began speaking in what sounded like Chinese. “So we’ve found him... he looks to be in good condition... will he come with me now?”

As Park Jung-Hwa opened his mouth, Min Yoongi began speaking, also apparently in Chinese. “I’m sorry... Park Jimin will be unavailable to leave with anyone.”

Both older men looked at him in surprise, Jimin just staring in shock... he spoke a little Chinese, a very little Japanese, and some English.

The CEO began speaking in what sounded like French. “Who is this upstart? Have you promised Jimin to both of us tonight?” The tone was sharp and the accent untrue.

In perfect French, Yoongi retorted, “Jimin is promised to no one, and I suggest you take your leave of us... before things become /unfriendly/, mon ami.”

The rotund man’s face started purpling, as did Jung-Hwa’s. The burly man started to reach for Jimin, who couldn’t help but just start to shrink aside, when the florid man’s chubby arm was grabbed by long, white fingers, making the thick arm look smaller.

“I suggest, again, you take your leave, before things become more than even /you/ can handle, /sir/... and may I highly suggest you rethink your future partnerships? Priorly promised /amenities/ are no longer available.” The last was delivered in flawless English, both Jimin and Aiko able to understand, as well as the few people that had managed to drift closer...which included Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Jeon Jungkook, and Kim Taehyung.

They all looked at the rotund man with barely concealed distaste, Namjoon with a clear grimace... and the man knew enough of who half of them were to not want to continue with the altercation any longer...

“Ah, Jung-Hwa... I think you were mistaken about many things... I take my leave of you,... enjoy... /it/...” the fat man said, indicating Jimin with a jut of his chin at his last statement, turning to walk away with a satisfied smirk.

Until he was stopped, again, by a long fingered hand.

Jimin saw Yoongi say something softly to the older man, something that had the other man look apprehensive before it became furious, then schooled into blandness. “You are an interesting young man, Min Yoongi ssi... not what I was led to expect.” And without another look, walked away.

Park Jung-Hwa, meanwhile, was looking murderously at his son. “Jimin... I’ve had enough of your impudence... you will return with me /now/ and we will discuss your future-“

“No.”

Jung-Hwa spoke over the voice. “-now come along...”

“No.”

Everyone could see the instinctive curling of the meaty fist. “Park Jimin... is this how you speak to your father?”

The man was almost shaking in rage... the others had to wonder how much the man may have had to drink before coming over to his son.

Before Jimin could speak, there was a low-pitched voice, almost hysterical in its glee. “Not your father... not your son...”

Jimin hadn’t realized his mother was there, her soft form was suddenly next to him, and Jimin could smell the alcohol on her, her make-up looking slightly smeared. She hiccuped.

“Not your father... my baby... my poor baby... the dog said he’d take care of us... just wanted the money... making my baby a whore... he promised his name and a future for you...” /hiccup/ “but the lying monster... ruining all of our lives,... my baby... my poor baby... when I meet your father when I die... how will I face him... tell him,... the dog was supposed to keep you /safe/... give you a name... everything you should have had... liar... dirty liar... with his own dirty whore... with his own /son/....” and she cackled, even as Jimin just stared in shock and Yoongi moved to try to get next to her. “/Infertile/... no son!... no son for that rotten bastard... /no son/!... my beautiful Jiminie was closest... but you fat monster... you ruined him! You /ruined/ him!” Her voice was a shrill shriek at the end, and now they had all eyes on them, much whispering and gossiping traveling around the large ballroom, some unable to look, others unable to look away.

Jimin felt like collapsing...

“My baby... my poor baby... eomma’s so sorry... so sorry... too many pills... too many lies... he’s a /liar/...” she sobbed, small hands coming up to her face as her shoulders shook.

No one was prepared for the meaty hand that reached out for the woman, pulling her hand away, and slapped her across the face before anyone could stop her. “Shut up! Shut up, woman! You pig!”

The spittle flew from thick lips and Yoongi grabbed the larger man away from the woman. Yoongi didn’t see the cocked fist coming for him, but Jimin did - and threw himself over Yoongi, chest to chest, taking the blow to the back of his head, falling on the other.

Kim Namjoon and Jeon Jungkook immediately swarmed the older man, tearing him from the two smaller, whom he tried to beat and kick...

Everyone was aghast. Such behavior couldn’t be conceived... this had to be some kind of act...

Jimin, tears leaking from the blow, was being held by Yoongi, who immediately began issuing directives. “Hyung, call the police... right now... Park Jung-Hwa is either extremely drunk or mentally incapacitated, but in either case, is a menace and physical danger to others... Tae, take Jimin’s Eommanim back to his place... for now... Kookie and Joon... hold him til the police get here...”

Everyone was scrambling, but Jimin just stayed quiet in Yoongi’s arms, his face in the older’s shoulder. “Aiko, can you and Jin get Jimin back to his place? Take my car - the driver is waiting... I’ll stay here and deal with /him/ and the police...”

Jin was finishing his call and nodding, while Tae had gathered the sobbing little woman in his arms, and Jimin felt Yoongi gently release him, Aiko’s small hand on his forearm, leading him back and away.

Jimin didn’t even know what to think, still seeing stars from the blow to the back of his head. 

Yoongi, seeing the dazed look on the younger even as the small Japanese woman guided him, quickly called out to Jin. “Get the doctor to look at them both... Jimin took a bad hit to the back of his head... don’t let him close his eyes til the doctor’s seen him... again...” he said grimly, worry evident in his dark eyes.

“You son of a /bitch/... son of a /pig/, too...” the fat, slavering man was now openly snarling at Yoongi, trying to break free of the taller boys, foul-mouthing Yoongi’s mother, and Jimin, unable to help himself, hearing the vicious outpouring of his father, stopped to look back, completely horrified and humiliated... just to see Min Yoongi, his form so slender and delicate looking in comparison to his shaking, stolid father, step up to the man and, so fast it was hard to comprehend, shot a bladed hand at the man’s thick throat, causing the enraged man to suddenly choke, trying to catch his breath, but effectively stopping his mouth from spitting any more viciousness.

“Come, Park Jimin ssi... no more of this for you... come...” and Jimin allowed himself to be led away by the tiny woman, his last sight was seeing Yoongi, expression bland and blank, facing his father’s struggling purple one.

**************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I’d love to hear your thoughts, and if you’re reading, don’t be a completely silent reader and at least drop kudos if you’re enjoying this.
> 
> Find me on twt @starry4yngi, missing Yoongi, and if you’re enjoying this, try my other fics and let me know what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!

**********************

Jimin sat on his couch, staring at nothing, trying to comprehend the night. 

After being led out of the venue by Aiko, they had joined Jin and Taehyung with Jimin’s mother, Jin Ae, in a car with Yoongi’s driver.

Jimin held himself aloof, still in shock, as his mother tried to cling to him, sobbing into his chest, his arm.

Tae had given her tissues as Jin looked extremely uncomfortable, and Aiko made soothing noises on the other side of Jin Ae, trying to comfort her without being too familiar.

There was little said until Jimin found himself on his couch, his mother quietly hiccuping next to him, patting his head, rubbing his shoulder, but thankfully had stopped her murmured apologies and sobbing expletives against her husband.

Jin had immediately gone into the kitchen, making tea, and Tae had fielded phone calls while Aiko sat quietly next to Jimin, regarding him gravely with compassion... which he hated... because she was Yoongi’s date...

And wondered why he was spending time thinking about that instead of the literal bomb his mother had dropped.

Park Jung-Hwa wasn’t his father.

Park Jung-Hwa /wasn’t/ his /father/...

He barely was aware of Tae pacing around his apartment, still on the phone, but came to himself when Jin... /Jin/, presented him with a mug of tea, after putting one in his mother’s hands.

Jimin nodded his thanks, and took a sip, wondering at how outside of himself his mind felt... all of this felt as if it was happening on a level that didn’t really touch him... his mother, whom he hadn’t seen in /weeks/ had suddenly shown up, completely intoxicated, spitting vituperations at his, no, not his, father... revealing that she’d also known how Jung-Hwa had been using him... had destroyed his chance at a future in the company... possibly the business... had it not been for Min Yoongi... and even now... everything had been pretty quiet, or at least everyone had looked away that might know, but with his mother airing their laundry at a charity benefit of all places... the way she had... 

Jimin sipped his tea, thinking of how bitter it was... and he wasn’t thinking of the tea...

And feeling grave eyes on him, turned his head to look at the exquisite petite woman beside him.

“Have you and Yoongi been dating long?” Jimin had no idea why that had left his lips.

There was an audible intake of breath from someone in the room, but Aiko just looked at him. “No...”

Jimin’s lips pulled thin, a small nod happening before it registered even with himself.

“We’re not-...”

“Yoongi hyung is on his way up...” Tae said suddenly, looking up from his phone.

“Oh, my baby... I’m so sorry... I thought I was doing the right thing... I thought I was giving you a better future... “ his mother began murmuring again, swiping at her eyes with much-used tissues that had begun to shred.

The others were silent, unsure whether they should stay or make their excuses.

Jin nodded, looking to Tae and Aiko, “We should go... Yoongi will...”

Jimin couldn’t help a quick glance to the small woman that stood up slowly, reaching out one hand to grasp one of Jimin’s. “Jimin ssi... I hope to see you again, soon...” and Jimin hated the sincerity in her soft voice.

Jimin quickly scanned her face, seeing that her grave expression hadn’t changed one bit.

Jimin stared, then felt other eyes on him as well.

“Jimin... are you okay?” The look from Jin was surprisingly compassionate.

Jimin thought about the question, thought about what was happening... thought about how he wished he was still drunk...

He was still staring up at them when the door suddenly opened and Yoongi strode in, looking unflappable, yet determined, followed by Jeongguk.

Yoongi’s eyes quickly looked around, assessing the situation, then addressed Jin, though his eyes landed on Jimin and stayed. “Hyung, can you get everyone home? Joon is downstairs with the car.”

Jimin watched him with unblinking eyes, not even noticing Aiko regarding the two of them, then following Tae and Jeongguk, all falling behind Jin, leaving mother and son, and Yoongi, behind.

“Please, Jin Ae ssi...” He held his hand out to her, who looked up from her crumpled tissues, what little makeup left on her smudged. 

“I... I have to tell him... I have to tell him the truth...” her voice quavered.

Yoongi nodded empathetically, then gently held fresh tissues out.

Jimin could only watch... watch the caring gentleness of the man before him.

There was the sudden sound of a tapping at the door.

Both Jimin and his mother looked startled at the sudden noise, even as gentle as it was, but Yoongi merely grasped the woman’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and turned to the door, opening it to reveal...

Iseul.

Yooongi’s mother.

The small, exquisite woman wore no visible makeup, her small, Cupid’s bow mouth the origin of her son’s, her canted eyes full of compassion and concern.

“Oh, eonni...” she wore a simple, yet still casually sophisticated ensemble, her petite form gliding across the room to meet Jimin’s mother, who had stood, and then, once the slim arms enclosed around the heavier figure, dissolved into hopeless, regretful tears.

“Iseul... Iseul... you told me... I refused to listen... I thought he would change... I thought he would be so happy... the deal we made... he’s everything you said and more... he’s worse... I regret my life... I regret what I’ve done to my son... I gave him my son, Iseul... my /son/...” she sobbed, face into the smaller woman’s shoulder, but one hand reaching back to Jimin, whose eyes were just watching the two women, speechless, but from too many emotions rather than being numb.

Yoongi watched the silver haired man, who seemed too stunned to take in what was happening. Jimin was still on the couch, mouth slack, eyes on the two women, until Yoongi moved closer. Jimin’s eyes quickly went to meet canted brown ones, his own pooling with so much emotion... and amongst them, predominantly, shame.

“Eonni,... eonni... you are not alone... you are not alone any longer...” the low, soft voice murmured into the other woman’s hair, a long, slender hand stroking the mussed dark head.

“I thought you were just jealous... jealous and wanted me to have nothing...” Jin Ae sobbed, Jimin not understanding.

His mother and Yoongi’s... knew each other?... /eonni/?... they were close?...

Iseul led the distraught woman back to the couch, holding her close, even as Jimin slid further away...

“Hyung?” He whispered, looking to Yoongi, who didn’t look surprised, then back to his own mother with wounded eyes.

“Eonni... eonni... tell your son... tell your son your story... that that... Jung-Hwa is not his father... give him that gift now...” the soft voice was firm, helping the other dab at tears that still ran down rounded cheeks. 

Head nodding, the woman turned away from the other to face her son.

Jimin felt as if a chasm were opening beneath his feet... and felt a cool, large hand grasp one of his as Yoongi sat right beside him, chest pressed into his shoulder, giving him the support he so desperately needed, and not just physically.

“Jiminie... my baby... I’m sorry... I’m sorry that monster... I just tried,... I wanted to give you more... to try to make up for my... not mistake... you were, are, never a mistake... but I didn’t know what to do...”

And with support from the other mother and son, Jin Ae told her son, finally, her story... his story.

She and Iseul had long been friends from school,... attending the same academies, then college. 

They had both met Park Jung-Hwa, and both had immediately been turned off by the unwholesome air about him, though he tried then to be suave and caring, trying to woo Iseul...

Jin Ae continued that she remembered that Iseul had scornfully turned down the repeated advances and proposals of Park Jung-Hwa... she had heard too much of his real personality from people in the family company through contacts... and had met Min Young-Min... who had captured her heart with his personality and competence, and the two were soon married... and had been blessed with a son.

Jin Ae, who had also not been interested, had met a young man at a charity benefit... a dancer... an incredibly gifted, talented dancer.

That had Jimin’s eyes widening, mouth slack again.

Jin Ae had explained that she had defied her parents when he had proposed, fighting for a marriage with the dancer she was so in love with... his grace, his charm, his caring, loving personality... he was her everything,... the passion he translated so well in his dance originated from the passion of a loving heart.

Convinced she was going to have her way, they had slept together and promised each other that they would make it work... unfortunately, after an exhaustive performance, he’d left in a taxi, eager to meet her, and upon crossing the busy intersection, didn’t see the motorcycle that had hummed straight at him. Hitting him, the cyclist had buffeted the slender body into an oncoming car, which killed him upon impact.

Jin Ae had only found out from a news blurb the next morning, worried sick that he hadn’t shown, as she tried to get ready, prepared to go to his apartment.

She couldn’t wrap her mind around it... numb... she had been rebuffed by his family, so lost and consumed in their grief, knowing that he had been going to meet her; he had been their only child.

It was only a few weeks later she had found that she was pregnant.

She knew she had risked much to have the relationship with the dancer, and understood that if she went to her family to tell them she was pregnant, without having had a marriage... she would be turned away, she and her baby left in ignominious circumstances, the center of gossip and speculation... 

Jimin was trying to understand everything she was saying. His father had been a dancer,... Park Jung-Hwa was not his-

Jin Ae sobbed... she thought she could convince Park Jung-Hwa to take her instead... 

... in the throes of panic, she tried to figure out how she could salvage her situation, heart-broken, but knowing she had to plan for their son. 

Recently hearing of Iseul and her son, their happiness, though she could have no other son, from complications of giving birth, Jin Ae came upon a plan. She remembered how much Jung-Hwa hated Mi Young-Min... sincerely believing he had stolen what was never his... and delving into the man’s personal life, had heard of many, many of his unsavory alliances, his proclivity to seduce women... and that there had never been even a whisper of the scandal of a bastard... had a feeling the man might appreciate a situation that allowed him to have a son...

And only telling Iseul that she /had/ to, she had ‘seduced’ Park Jung-Hwa... in reality, pointing out to him that Iseul and Young-Min had a son already toddling... that the advantages she was proposing... marriage to her, with a son whose father and family would never interfere, would never know... that Jung-Hwa would save face in public and be presented with his ‘own’ son... if they married promptly... and feed everyone a lie about a whirlwind romance.

The man was crafty... he knew what she was after, and though had a foreboding of what the truth was concerning himself, stipulated that Jimin would be named and raised his son, and in the direct line of inheritance... as long as he continued to mature well... and he didn’t have another son... a ‘real’ son of his own.

She had gone to Iseul to explain that they would no longer be able to be friends, knowing Jung-Hwa was almost maniacally obsessed with the couple... and often gleefully dreamed and schemed for their downfall... 

And Iseul had begged her to let them help, to find another answer to whatever her situation was, having some inkling of what her friend may have been facing... trying to warn her that Park Jung-Hwa was a mad dog... a snake... that he would honor no promises... and Jin Ae, in her desperation, had lashed out at her friend...

And thus had begun her years of torture... being kept on a leash, given no leeway in her behavior, in her expectations... constantly held in check with threats of exposing her son... 

But keeping to his promise to raise Jimin as his own... until...

The first mistress to claim pregnancy by him... that had occurred during Jimin’s first foray into dance... and Jung-Hwa had begun to loosen his grip on the boy... thinking to be rid of them soon... until the pregnancy had turned to be nothing... and that was when Jung-Hwa wanted Jimin to leave dance behind, to be more involved in the future of the company, realizing that though he had continually tried, no son was yet to be had... 

And all the while, discovering Jimin’s sexual preferences, took on yet another mistress, who in turn was claiming a pregnancy... and she was, indeed, pregnant...

That was while Jimin had been in college... and banking on a child of his own, Jung-Hwa had begun to ‘use’ Jimin for the company... thinking to humiliate his mother, him... to ensure he would have no future in the company... no future... until he found that he’d moved too soon... the woman had given birth to another man’s child...

And Jung-Hwa had become enraged at the situation he’d put himself in. He’d ruined his best chance of a ‘direct’ heir...

And took his anger out on his ‘son’...

Jin Ae, terrified that Jung-Hwa would completely drop them... she’d taken to drink and medication... she couldn’t face what was happening to her son... too weak to stop it, too afraid for him if she did... 

... she paused and begged his forgiveness, pleading that it was all out of love... but Jimin refused her touch... to look at her...

And, tearfully, Jin Ae finally came to the present... Jung-Hwa had once again fallen for a scheming woman’s news that she was carrying his son... that she had blood tests already to prove it... and soon after, had heard of how Jimin had been beaten, Jung-Hwa counting on another chance at a son and new wife... and his enraged enlightenment that /Min Yoongi/ had picked up the pieces he’d left on the ground, planning on curbing Jimin further when he came crawling back... realizing he had nothing... his complete rage had caused Jin Ae into retreat, back to her own family, who were scandalized at her drunken explanations, unable to face what she also had done to her own son...

And when she heard how Iseul’s own son had found Jimin... had taken him in... and /hired/ him for his own company... learning that, somehow, a life was possible for her son... she thought that as long as Jimin could know that he was no son of a monster,... that it was time to accept her decisions and come clean to her son... that his life could be salvageable...

But, unfortunately, after opening up to her parents, who were scandalized and outraged that Jimin was a bastard, /and/ had been used so ignobly to further Park Jung-Hwa’s interests, had thrown her out, telling her to beg her husband for forgiveness and to disown her son... they wanted nothing to do with her, nor her son, any longer... 

So she’d taken a few drinks, a few pills, and finding out that her husband and son would be in the same place... believed that she could set her son free, finding out that Jung-Hwa’s plans to cut them loose... it was all for nothing... she’d found out that again, in his desperation, Jung-Hwa was being duped...

Iseul held her hand throughout, watching her with so much emotion... Jimin couldn’t bear to look at his own mother right now... couldn’t bear to look to Yoongi... so he stared at the woman who had been his mother’s friend... and idly thought that in another world, he and Yoongi could have grown up together... known one another... been /friends/... at the least...

And when Jin Ae’s sobs dwindled to a few snuffles and hiccuping breaths, Jimin breathed out, staring at nothing... at a life that had slipped through his mother’s fingers... and felt a sob tear through him for what could have been... 

“I’m so sorry, baby... eomma’s so sorry...” she gasped, reaching out for her son, only to have him thrust himself away from her, ramming into the older at his side, a sob tearing through him again, as unwilling as he was to loose it.

‘You knew... you /knew/...” he whispered, hoarse... he always like to tell himself she didn’t know... couldn’t know... would never let that happen if she’d known... and instead, learned she had known... and hadn’t done anything... to keep them ‘/safe/‘... to keep them in /money/... she had allowed him to be whored out...

“I thought I did what was-“

“Don’t.”

Jimin’s whisper held a world of pain, of shame, of anger...

Jin Ae’s eyes widened, staring, and Iseul gathered her friend closer.

Jimin felt his hand go free as the larger one withdrew, and let his own eyes drop to his knees, clasping his hands tightly before him.

“Eomma...”

The low voice was ignored by Jimin, but Iseul, looking to her son, understood his gesture.

“Eonni... come with me... I’m going to take you home with me... you’ll be more comfortable there... come... Yoongi will stay with Jimin...”

Jimin was peripherally aware of his mother hesitantly reaching out to him, but as he jerked, she pulled her hands back, and biting into her lip, allowed herself to be led by the other woman.

Yoongi and his mother spoke quietly at the door, and Jimin was aware of the sound of the door opening, then clicking closed.

He had yet to raise his eyes.

His real father was dead.

His mother had negotiated with Park Jung-Hwa to be his father.

His ‘father’ and mother, /mother/, had allowed the life he’d been pulled into to happen.

Jimin wet his lips, now hyperaware that he was alone with a man that had heard about every bit of his sordid life... and had pulled away.

He felt eyes on him again.

“I’m sorry.” He said shortly.

“For what?” The voice was as quiet as it had been when speaking with their mothers.

Their mothers.

What a difference there was in their mothers.

“Jimin?”

Jimin continued to stare at his knees, hands clenched so tightly, his skin went white.

Jimin’s voice was constricted, though still managing to sound listless. “I’m sorry if this gets out... if it hurts you or the company... you know... to be associated with me... I’m sure everyone is talking... but... thank you... thank you for everything you’ve done-“

“Are you giving me your notice?” Yoongi interrupted.

Jimin finally looked up, eyes large, a flash of hurt... and then empty. “Don’t make fun of me,... it’s beneath you...”

Yoongi walked over, then squatted in front of the sitting man. “No one will be talking, Jimin...”

Jimin barked out a scornful laugh. “Are you delirious? Of course everyone is talking... it’s probably all over the city...”

“No, it’s not...”

Jimin continued shaking his head, an ugly smile on his plush mouth. “My eomma wasn’t quiet... and you saw my father...” Jimin stopped, then laughed again, just as ugly. “I’d say I’ll pack and get out...but I have nothing... and no where to go... not really...”

Yoongi reached out grab the hand that raked through silver hair.

“Jimin...” 

Jimin wouldn’t meet his eyes... he didn’t want to see scorn... regret... pity...

Jimin chewed his lip, trying to figure out who he could stay with... maybe an old hook up from-

“Jimin.”

Startled, he met dark eyes as the hand released his to guide his face gently with light fingers under his chin.

“You don’t have to go anywhere... you don’t have to quit... you don’t have to... worry...”

He wanted to believe the low, graveled tones... but how could he?... it was ludicrous to think he’d have any life left after-

“Hyung took care of it, Jimin... we took care of it...”

Jimin’s eyes held a wealth of confusion, denial... “Wh-what are you talking about? Who-who took care of what?”

Yoongi met the younger’s eyes calmly, sincerely... “believe it or not, some of us have the power to quiet more than a few tongues... put us together, and many will gladly turn deaf ears and blank faces to any malicious /rumors/ a thwarted angry man will spread...”

Yoongi studied the astonished look on the other’s face. “But... but he’s going to-“

Yoongi looked gravely at the younger, shaking his head minutely. “He won’t dare... the police took him, and he’ll be spending the night in jail... /that/ is what is going around now... people wondering why Park Jung-Hwa caused a scene, even given that his son chose to pursue another direction in his career... even now, videos are being played of your competitions... your shows... everyone will understand your talent and choice... some will side with your father about leaving his business... the ones that don’t know... but the people your father made deals with... using your... help... they will /not/ be saying a word...” Yoongi’s jaw was granite, eyes hard.

Jimin licked his lower lip, confusion awash in his expression, but a tendril of hope insisted on rising, though his past experiences tried to beat it down.

No one had ever stood up for him... no one he could remember. He had an armor of image and affluence to hold back the tides of judgment and whispered conjectures. But with his parents... there had only ever been him.

“Joon will be handling what will hit the social media storm with my eomma-“

Jimin’s mouth opened. “ Your eomma?”

“-and Jin will also be-“

“/Seokjin/ ssi?” Jimin’s mind blanked.

Yoongi have a definitive nod. “We take care of our own, Jimin... you are a part of our company... and a friend...”

Jimin couldn’t help it... he could feel a hotness welling up in his eyes...

He had friends... but they weren’t /friends/... there were acquaintances, his social cliques, his fuckbuddies, some hangers-on, but... someone to count on? To rely on? 

A sob broke... a small, repressed sound, but it broke free, nonetheless. A small hand came up to cover his wet eyes, not wanting the other to see... Park Jimin didn’t cry... not over this... over... /kindness/... he wasn’t crying... because he didn’t feel completely alone... because he wasn’t alone in a morass of nightmare...

Yoongi stared at the younger, hand reaching out again to cup the sharp jawline, a soft thumb lightly brushing a wet cheek.

“Don’t cry, baby... don’t cry...”

And Jimin’s hand dropped, eyes startled wide at the escaped endearment... convinced the other had made a mistake... and met the softened dark eyes, watching him with what he couldn't’ even deny to himself was... /something/...

The gulp that bobbed the sharp Adam’s apple wasn’t missed by the older’s eyes... the wide, wounded eyes, swimming in crystal tears... Park Jimin was beautiful, even in his tears... but Yoongi knew he far preferred the curved curls of his smiles...

The shoulders were trembling from the sobs Jimin was holding back... 

Everything was too much...

... his father’s complete hate... the bomb, astonishing but also so /relieving/ that Park Jung-Hwa wasn’t his father... that his hate wasn’t for his own son... his mother... her confessions... her shortcomings... his sordid dealings... his new beginning... his dance... and... not least... Min Yoongi...

Two hands flew up, covering his face... Jimin had enough... he had been alone too long... he had been strong for too long... he had been hiding his nothingness, his fear that he was truly unloveable, even by his own father... it was too much... he felt as if he was choking... couldn’t catch his breath, the sobs wracking his chest... it hurt... it all hurt... was hurting...

And suddenly, making him freeze, he felt himself being pulled into a tight embrace, so tight, but not one of lust, not the prelude to sex... an embrace of... /comfort/... he felt his face being guided into a warm, soothing nape, could feel the fast thud of another’s heart pressed again his own chest, his own heart beating like a caged bird finally fighting free...

Two strong arms encircled his entire body, gripping him close, a low whisper soothing him even as he felt a cheek press to the top of his head...

... and Jimin melted... melted the isolation, the ever-continued anxiety that was his life... the wretched ball of buried self-hate... all of it was melted away... perhaps not forever, but for the first time... Jimin let it all go... and didn’t feel the other pull away in disgust, in judgment... just felt the firm arms tighten around him again, holding him so close, letting him lose his control... his facade... his masks that he had worn for so long...

He wasn’t Park Jimin, the societal darling and the back room whisper, the fashion icon and social influencer, the company’s secret whore and the object of his father’s hate... he was Park Jimin... who finally had someone to hold him... who finally could let himself cry for everything that he had been pushed into becoming... but didn’t have to continue to be... to cry as the Park Jimin that had been hiding within, a tiny figure that had continued to be, but so alone, arms around himself... a boy that wanted... just really wanted... to be loved...

“You’re not alone, Jimin...” and because he believed it...

... the whisper shook his world.

************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Hope you enjoy and drop those kudos if you are... I also would love to hear your thoughts...
> 
> Find me on TWT @starry4yngi and try my other fics if you love Yoonmin as much as I do...
> 
> I miss our Yoongi...


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry sorry for the lag time!
> 
> Thanks for coming back!

***************************

Sunlight seemed to be everywhere...

Jimin could feel consciousness coming to him, could feel the sun splaying across his form... his lithe form curled in on himself, knees pulled up to his chest, the arm heavy at his waist, the warmth at his back...

Jimin slowly opened swollen eyes, wondering why they felt so thick... until it all came back... and realized the form behind him, the weight that he had pressing into, even in his fetal ball... 

Min Yoongi.

Jimin blinked, trying to wet dry lips, focusing on the regular breaths coming from behind him.

Last night... his father... no, not his /father/... his mother... and Yoongi... Yoongi who had held Jimin through his sobbing, his breakdown, his self-loathing... Yoongi, whispering the words he had wanted to hear most of his life... he wasn’t alone... he wasn’t alone...

Jimin could feel the tight ball coming back inside of his chest, just overwhelmed again by all of the truths he’d been hit with... run over by... flayed open from...

His father... Park Jung-Hwa /wasn’t/ his father... he was just a man who was a monster... who had used him... 

His mother... he couldn’t go there yet...

But Yoongi’s mom and his mother friends? Close?

His father had been a gifted dancer.

That... that thought he held on to... it was a bright, shining coin in a morass of filth...

And last night... Kim Namjoon and Jeon Junggeok, Kim Taehyung, and Kim Seokjin... and Yoongi... Min Yoongi... all coming to his aid, to him... 

Jimin blinked, trying to keep his breath moderate and even, though another sob wanted to tear its way out of his chest...

He could feel his ribcage quiver...

“Shhhhhhhhh...”

To his shock, he felt steady arms turn him around, legs shifting to accommodate, and being pulled into the warmth of the other’s chest, forehead pressed into the column of the white throat, feeling the vibration of the older, soothing his now audible sobs.

Jimin felt the firm chin atop his hair, hands gently stroking up and down his back, and Jimin... he did... he let himself cry again... for the real father he’d lost and never known, for the mother who had failed him so miserably... for the dream he’d had taken from him, made a mockery of... for the life he’d been forced to live the past years of his adulthood... 

And wasn’t alone... felt the security, the compassion... the presence of someone who seemed to really /care/... about /him/...

Time flew by, and Jimin had no idea how much time had passed... he just knew his face was a wet, sticky mess from tears, hot from his breath pressed up against someone else... and with one last shaking breath... he knew he was done... and felt the arms around him give him one more reassuring squeeze.

And now he felt awkward.

He knew he was a mess... had to be swollen and gross... could tell his hair was like a straw pile, locks that were twisting away from his head... like a bawling child... and it was Min Yoongi that would see...

And as his awkwardness increased, he felt a chuckle shake the others ribcage. 

“It’s okay... I’m going to let you up, okay? I’m sure you’d like to hit the shower...” and following suit with actions, released the younger, who paused for a moment before rolling away and up to sit at the edge of the bed, refusing to look back at the elder.

Jimin realized he still had his clothing on from the evening out... and felt even more gross. He raked hands through his hair, wondering if it would be too rude to just spring for the bathroom.

“Mind if I take a shower in the guest bath?”

The sleepy burr was still in the other’s voice, and sounded so... well, Jimin just had to risk a look.

And regretted it.

Yoongi’s hair was flopping in the most incredible, gravity-defying bedhead he’d seen, eyes mere canted slits, mouth pursed into a small pink pout... face scrunched, he was completely endearing... Jimin felt his chest tighten, but in a completely different way... from a completely different emotion.

He didn’t realize he was still just staring until the blond shook his head. “What? That bad?” 

Jimin could feel the start of a smile tug the corners of his mouth upward, the confusion and slight chagrin of the other as endearing as the mess on his head. Yoongi ran his hands over the top of his mop, just making the mess move rather than taming it, causing Jimin’s lips to bloom into a full smile.

Biting into his lower lip, he just shook his head, putting a had to his own hair, wondering what /he/ must look like after all of the emotional outpouring.

Yoongi stared at the other, then quirked his lips, and as if reading his mind, “You still look... beautiful...”

And Jimin blinked... hard... and flushed.

“I... I’m going to jump into the shower... and you don’t have to ask, hyung... this is your place-“

Yoongi shook his head even as he began to clamber off the bed himself. “It’s your place, Jimin... not mine...”

And it might have been cowardly, but Jimin made a quick stride to the bathroom, assuming Yoongi would be able to find everything he needed.

Under hot running water, Jimin was finding himself again. Water sluicing away the bitterness and upset of the night before, he let the water run and run, shifting his perspective on himself, his life... his family... and his dreams.

The past was past... nothing he could do would change it... but he could now take the reins of his present... of his future...

... and his passion...

Tilting his head back, letting the water run right into his face, opening his mouth, he just let it all go... as much as he could...

He hadn’t realized how much time had passed under the spell of hot water. He had scrubbed at his wet hair and threw on joggers and a soft sweatshirt, not wanting to leave the warmth and coze the hot water had brought to him.

Stuffing his feet into slippers, he tentatively walked out of his room, unsure of what he would find, if Yoongi was showering or finished as well.

He didn’t expect to see the elder shuffling around the kitchen, wearing one of his own tees, which stretched over the broader chest and shoulders in a completely dizzying way, and loose joggers. 

The blond hair hung down over the undercut, in a damper, but more tame version than earlier, and the eyes were sharp and open, stirring something with one hand while sipping from a mug in the other.

Jimin froze, taking in the completely domestic picture of Min Yoongi he’d never have thought to even imagine... let alone see in the flesh.

Before thinking to move, Yoongi seemed to sense him and looked up, his eyes curving into their own smile, carefully gesturing with his mug. “Want coffee? Or would you rather tea?”

Jimin told himself to breathe, then stepped forward, a gentle smile in place. “Coffee sounds great...”

He watched as the blond pulled out another mug and filled it, then looked questioningly at him. “Sugar? Milk?”

Jimin shook his head. “I think I need it black today...” and welcomed the bitter heat that flooded his mouth as he carefully took his first sip.

After making sure Jimin had his coffee, Yoongi had turned back to the stove top, stirring a large pot, and then surprising Jimin by carefully rolling an omelette in a frying pan.

“You... you cook?” Jimin asked, tentatively shy, unable to get over the picture of the elder in his shirt, his clothes... looking as if he’d just spent the night with him... in another context.

Yoongi flashed a smile, nodding. “Yeah... irregular hours and a guilty conscience... I hated to get staff up to just make me something simple, so yeah... Jin hyung and I would experiment in the kitchen... it was pretty bad to start... but... I think you’ll be able to choke some of this down...”

Jimin slipped into a seat at the table, watching with wide eyes, seeing the other from yet another perspective.

Min Yoongi was nothing he’d been taught to believe.

Min Yoongi was nothing like other chaebol heirs he’d known.

Min Yoongi treated him like no one else had in his life.

A platter being set down startled him from his reverie.

“Go ahead, start...” Yoongi urged the younger, seeing him blink back to now... he knew there was much that was churning behind the swollen, but still beautiful, eyes, and felt his chest tighten seeing the smile flower on the pretty face, looking over the breakfast being laid in front of him.

Jimin dipped his spoon into the hot pot that had just been set in front of him, tasting the spicy doenjang stew, and felt a disbelieving smile grow. “Hyung! So good!” And dug right back in, taking a spoonful of rice to dip once Yoongi set that in front of him, too.

Yoongi watched for a moment, seeing the other forget his heavy, heavy burdens for another moment, happily filling his stomach.

Grabbing two waters from the refrigerator, Yoongi made his way over sit next to the other, and without hesitation, dipped his own spoon into the same hot pot, blowing on the dofu, appreciating the look of it with the chopped green scallion, before putting it into his mouth, unaware that the other was staring at him.

Jimin could only watch as the other shared the same pot with him, then felt something more loosen within him. When Yoongi had said they were friends, that he was not alone... Jimin realized he really, truly meant it... he wasn’t treating him like a guest or employee... and feeling bold, Jimin captured a slice of the enticing-looking omelette and lay it on Yoongi’s rice.

Without missing a beat, Yoongi had scooped it up and put it into his mouth, nodding his approval. “Sometimes I over or under-cook it...”

Jimin quickly put a slice in his own mouth, sucking in air to cool it down, nodding as well. “No, it’s perfect!” And enjoyed the sublime softness, finding comfort in the taste and heat.

They ate quietly and companionably for a few moments, and Jimin realized that Yoongi wouldn’t rush him, wouldn’t be the first to broach the subjects of last night... of the revelations... of Jimin’s state... or his mother.

And Jimin was loathe to, himself. It was all such a mess... /he/ was such a mess... and this... right now... this was... Jimin just wanted to enjoy this, whatever it was.

“Good?” Yoongi asked, his eyes looking over the food, looking to see if he had missed anything.

Jimin hummed his approval, taking another bite full of omelette and rice.

Yoongi nodded, content, and let the other continue to eat... he wanted Jimin to feel safe, grounded here in this moment, before having to unpack all of last night.

Jimin, not finding the other’s silence distressing, nor feeling as if he needed to fill the quiet with any kind of conversation, just enjoyed the food Yoongi had made for them... /made/ for /them/... and reminded him that there was no /them/... there was... “Aiko noona seems really nice...”

Yoongi nodded affirmation, taking in another large spoonful of stew and rice.

Jimin, toying with the bunchan with his chopsticks, didn’t look over at the other. “Sorry if I ruined your night... your plans for... /after/...” Jimin trailed, sounding uncertain, but really just feeling a little miserable.

Yoongi was looking at the younger, and blinked. “I didn’t have any plans for after... just was going to head into the office today to check on a few things...?”

Jimin quickly apologized for that as well, though he thought Yoongi missed what he was really asking, even as Yoongi shook his head. “No... don’t... don’t even think about it... it’s nothing... not compared to making sure you’re... okay...” Yoongi finished awkwardly, watching the other look down, as if contemplating his rice.

“Are you... are you... how are you...” Yoongi seemed as if he didn’t know how to finish.

Jimin closed his eyes, head back, and sighed heavily.

The fucking monster wasn’t his father.

His /father/ didn’t hate him.

His /father/ hadn’t pimped out his own son.

His /father/ hadn’t taken away all hopes of his dreams and made him feel as if his passion in life was foolish.

He wasn’t Park Jimin, son of Park Jung-Hwa... and had never been so grateful for anything in his entire life.

As thoughts churned, he felt a soft touch to his hand that lay slack on the table, feeling a larger one slide under his palm, then grasp it, gently, yet firmly, supportively.

Jimin looked up, seeing the dark eyes fixed on his own... no judgement, no pity... just...

“How long have you been dating?”

Jimin wasn’t sure why /that/ came first from his mouth... but cringed at how it sounded... like he was completely superficial... like his world hadn’t been turned upside down... like-

“What? We’re not.”

Jimin, unconsciously braced to hear all about a long-term relationship, or worse in some ways, a new, budding one, took a moment or two before the words registered and met with meaning in his mind.

“What?”

Yoongi, still holding the small hand, smiled confusedly at the other. “Aiko and I are good friends... we met a few years ago... I saw her when I was in Japan, and asked her to come back for the gala...”

Jimin felt his stomach drop. “Oh...” he said softly, understanding this was something brand new.

Yoongi, as if sensing what Jimin was thinking, tugged at the small fingers within his own larger ones. “Jimin.”

Jimin continued to stare at his rice.

“Jimin.”

Finally the large, limpid eyes look over, meeting the sharper, darker ones.

“I couldn’t take you... I couldn’t take you with me... as a date...” Yoongi continued.

Of course he couldn’t, Jimin thought numbly, why would Min Yoongi want to take closet-whore Park Jimin to a-

“I was afraid your father,... well, Park Jung-Hwa, would show... /make/ a show...”

Jimin found himself rocking gently back and forth. 

He was so delusional... how could he have thought that Yoongi would ever harbor-

“I couldn’t be there with you... and give your father any excuse to think that I hired you for... well, for sex... to just have you with me for /that/...”

Right. Because that is exactly what the man would think... /is/ thinking, he’s sure...

“Jimin.”

Jimin kept rocking gently, thinking over-

“/Jimin/.”

Jimin stopped and looked over again, eyes vacant, licking his lower lip.

And was surprised to find the elder flushing.

“Jimin... I... I don’t want-“ he was stumbling over his words. “-I can’t ask... I can’t ask you out... I can’t /date/ you-“

Jimin felt a derisive smirk start forming on his lips. Of course he can’t... he can’t-

“I like you, Jimin,... I /like/ like you...”

Jimin’s mind screeched to a halt, as did his vapid grin... 

... /what/?

Now it was Yoongi that was looking down at their hands together, brushing cooling fingers over the softness of the smaller ones. 

Then looked up, looking Jimin right into the eyes.

“I like you, Jimin... I’m not just attracted to your looks, your outward persona... I just... I’ve kind of liked you... well, since...” his other hand went up to touch the back of his neck. “Anyway, I didn’t want- I don’t want, you to think that’s why you’re here, in the company, in the apartment, why I’m helping you... I mean, yeah, because I like you, but because I also wanted you, your talents, what you’re gifted with, as part of our team... what we’re trying to become.”

Jimin listened to Yoongi fumbling his way through a... confession?... but couldn’t reconcile the words and feeling that were coming from the other’s mouth with his own thoughts.

He’s going to tell me he feels sorry for me... that I’m too much of a whore... he doesn’t really like me like that... that he’s too big, too important for me... to be with-

“I don’t want to ruin things for you when you’re just starting.”

Wait. 

What?

Min Yoongi? Ruining things for /him/?

Jimin’s mouth finally opened. “What... what are you talking about?”

Yoongi looked at him, earnestly trying to convey his thoughts. “I... You’re just starting out again... and I wanted you to find what makes you happy, use the gifts I know you have, the dancing, your mind,... to change things for yourself... but... I didn’t want to be selfish... I’m trying not to be selfish... Joon, Jin hyung... they all told me, and I agree, that things would be better for you if you didn’t know I... well, that I liked you... so you wouldn’t’ think that’s what your position was about,... so others wouldn’t think that’s what this was all about...”

Jimin blinked. 

“I asked Aiko with that specifically in mind... and she knew that... I spoke with her about it...”

“And so I’m just like, what, dick on hold? When you think I’m ready, you’d let yourself ask me out, call me like a dog to your side?” Ok, Jimin knew he wasn’t really /this/ angry with Yoongi, but there had been too much to bear, and hearing this right in front of him now...

“NO! No!” Yoongi denied, vehemence in his voice. “Never... I was trying to just be your friend... I /am/ your friend... and I... I thought maybe... after you were settled... that maybe... well...”

“You’d get your dick wet? I’d be so grateful, and you’d have cleaned me, my image, up enough to-“

“Ask you for a date.” Yoongi had taken his hand away from the other when he’d become distraught. “I just wanted to ask you on a date.”

And Jimin froze.

A date.

Jimin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a /date/, asked for a /date/... assignations? Yes. Hook-ups? Yes. A blowjob, given and/or received in some unlocked room at an event or party? Yes. A quick fuck in a bathroom stall or boardroom? Yes, and yes.

A date?

No.

“Jimin... the only thing I wanted, want, is the chance to ask you on a date...” Jimin tried to ignore the hotness that was rising in his eyes. “But... how can I? Especially when this is your reaction? With everything you’re going through, everything that happened last night? Who does that make /me/, to take advantage of you while you have so much-“

“You want to ask me for a date?”

Yoongi stopped his words, brought up short. “Yes.”

Jimin stared, eyes large in his face, staring at the other man... seeing nothing lewd, nothing scornful... no calculation, no lascivious anticipation...

“What kind of date?”

Yoongi blinked at the other. Then opened his mouth. “I would ask you out... and then come to pick you up... and maybe we could go for dinner... and after-“

“Yeah? After?”

Yoongi ignored Jimin’s tone. “And after... maybe we could get ice cream during a walk along the Han... or we could get buns from the street cart near the park by the old dance studio I know is still there and still so good...” Jimin’s breath caught, forgetting about the place he’d loved to grab a treat from, when the car would be late picking him up, chatting and laughing with the other young dancers after class. “Or we could catch a movie... or a show... or... I don’t know, fly you to Paris to buy you a silk scarf that couldn’t come close to the softness of your skin or the color in your cheeks when you’re happy... or take you up north, Scandinavia maybe, to see if the Aurora Borealis would ever come close to matching the stars in your eyes when they shine...”

Jimin’s mouth dropped open, slack, unable to do anything but blink at the man in front of him, who was now blushing fully.

“Or take you to a show, to see the dancing I know you love so much... or grab some takeout and sit in a studio and watch you practice...”

Yoongi looked at him helplessly... now at a loss.

“I would take you to do what ever you wanted, try to find something that would make your eyes curl in smiles... see the shine I’ve seen in them before... something that would make you happy... happy to be sharing something, space, time, whatever... with me.” He finished simply, a self-conscious shrug of his broad shoulders in Jimin’s tautly stretched t-shirt...

And left Jimin in disbelief... at everything he’d just heard... but only for a few moments before warmth rushed through him, a thrilling, trilling, electrifying tingles racing up and up through his body, until even his fingertips felt enervated.

Min Yoongi.

The things he’d just said... the way he’d said them... the way he /sounded/ saying them...

“Yes.”

Yoongi watched him, still looking abashed at his unintended declarations. “What?”

Jimin smiled, cheeks high, eyes curving. “Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

Yoongi’s mouth opened, “but I haven’t asked yet!”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “You just did.”

Yoongi shook his head in denial. “No, I said I /want/ to, but-“

Jimin looked at him, a moue impossibly forming on his lush pout. “You’re ruining this for me right now...”

Yoongi looked at him almost in disbelief. “Yah, brat! I can’t be ruining anything because I haven’t done anything yet and when I do-“

“But I already said yes... and now you’re trying to take it back...”

Yoongi watched the other literally wilt in front of his eyes. “Wait! No!... I can’t take advantage of you like that right now- it wouldn’t be right... people would think-“

Jimin’s pout pushed further out, discommoding Yoongi even further. “You don’t want to take me on a date?”

Yoongi shook his head, unable to figure out how all of this had happened... but his heart surged at seeing the gleam of amusement in the depths of the other’s eyes. “Park Jimin, I definitely want to ask you for a date-“

“Then, yes... again... I say yes, again...” Jimin’s face broke into a smile, and it was almost the end of serious, dignified, sober adult chaebol Min Yoongi. Instead, starry-eyed, dreamy, completely-captivated, just-a-guy-head-over-heels-crushing-on-a-boy Min Yoongi was present, his answering smile just as large, if not larger, and started laughing at the other’s emphatic eagerness.

“Okay,... I’m seriously asking... okay...” and as Jimin kept nodding with yes-es, Yoongi’s gummy smile broke out, and could feel heat rising up his neck to his ears again, inexplicably happier than he’d been in a long time... inexplicable being Park Jimin saying yes.

Now, with Jimin looking so expectantly at him, Yoongi tried to rein in his delight and excitement. “Okay, so I have asked you for a date, and you’ve said yes, thank god,” and Jimin’s large smile grew a little larger, “but we still have a few things to deal with, Jimin...”

And Jimin’s smile fell, but just a little, the light in his eyes dimming, just a fraction, because Yoongi wasn’t finished, and he’d said ‘we’. 

“What would you like to do first?”

Jimin picked up his spoon and swirled it through the warm stew, no longer piping hot. “Well... I guess I’d... I don’t know... figure out what’s happening after last night? What’s going around... how that will affect your company?... your work?” And bit his lip, worried.

Yoongi shook his head. “Our company, Jimin, you are a crucial part of it... and our work... but Joon and a few others have already started on that...” 

Yoongi pulled out his phone and slid to some of his social media and society news. “Park Jung-Hwa is being outed as a tyrannical stepfather... ending the career of a potential star, a critically acclaimed young dancer... who, in his jealous rage was trying to mar Park Jimin’s character... and his mother, upset to complete devastation, was confusing the information she had been informed of concerning her husband and the mistress, rumors of a baby... words like whore were being thrown around... eye witnesses are testifying that in his jealousy and overwhelming fury, Park Jung-Hwa attacked family heir Min Yoongi and had to be held back by other close friends of Park Jimin, coming to his aid... and his mental state is being questioned... rumors of deals falling through and Park Enterprises not being so much in the black as had been thought...”

Jimin looked to Yoongi with large eyes, a few of the phrases sticking with him, including “friends of Park Jimin... coming to his aid...”

Yoongi flashed the phone screen to Jimin. “No one is talking about /you/ in any way other than the victim of a terrible character attack...”

Jimin grimaced. “But hyung... that CEO... he-“

Yoongi’s face was suddenly hard... granite... eyes, steel. “He won’t be saying a word, Jimin... not a word... he’s found out very recently how closely his investments and name are actually dependent upon the benevolence of the Kims’... Namjoon’s family... and Jin hyung’s...”

Jimin looked at him, eyes wide, wondering how-

Yoongi let a breath out through his nose. “After... after that night we... I saw...” Jimin could feel shame draining the newfound color from his cheeks. 

Yoongi reached over to gently offer to take his hand again, and Jimin let him. “You... you looked like... it wasn’t a choice... you said... you had /no/ choice... and I’ve heard enough about that man...” Yoongi’s eyes smoldered, but with an emotion he’d never directed at the younger. “Joon and I... we looked into him... his business... his... partnerships...” he shook his head. “Dirty... every single one of them... he only has his position because of blackmailing and having a brother in high places... who shares those high places with some of our fathers... and didn’t realize those high tables he thought to lord over are easily turned...”

Jimin’s eyes fell, face fell. “So... everyone knows... Kim Seokjin ssi, Kim Namjoon ssi, Tae,... they all know what he made me-“

Yoongi tugged at his fingers. “Jimin... Joon saw... and Jin knows some things... but no one else... okay?... until you want to, /if/ you want to,... you owe nobody anything... no explanation... Joon and hyung, Tae and Kookie... they all know I wanted you a part of the team on your /own merits/... your gifts... and they’ve seen that in action... the things you caught in the meetings... the kids you pointed out to us... even Hobie didn’t see the potential in the little one... thought he was too awkward...” And Jimin recalled the handsome, ebullient choreographer he’d met, who had offered to practice with him for fun... 

He didn’t realize the elder was studying him, looking at him in a way that would have made him blush... looking at him not in lust or avaricious hunger... but just... yearning affection... sweet want... 

Jimin just slowly nodded, licking his dry lips again. “O-okay...” He bit into his lip. It was just hard to believe that the world wasn’t out to beat him down... to hold him up as an example of sordid failure... complicit, however unwilling, whoring...

“Stop.” Jimin looked up, eyes wide again as Yoongi squeezed his fingers. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I told you... you are not alone... we have your back, Jimin... I have your back... Jin hyung, Joon, Tae, Kookie... even Hobie... my mother-“ Jimin’s breath came quick, “-we all have your back.”

And Jimin nodded blearily, the heat that had been threatening to well in his eyes more than once finally spilling over.

“Hey,” came the low voice, soft as he’d ever heard it. “No more, Jimin... those tears better be from excitement of our future date and nothing else, okay?...” and at Jimin’s small sound, hastily tacked on, “ from excitement, right?... not regret?... excitement at the thought of our date?” Yoongi half-pleaded, more than half serious, which made Jimin smile through the wetness that slid down his cheeks.

“Of course, hyung... of course...”

And Jimin smiled softly as the other lifted a hand, the one not holding his own, to tuck a stray lock of silvered hair behind his ear.

Jimin squeezed the larger hand with the long fingers, so much bigger than his own, but had only ever reached out to touch him with gentleness, for the first time, feeling something bloom again in his chest, his gut, at seeing the blond smile at him in return, realizing the world he woke up to today was not the world that he’d cried over being alive in last night.

**********************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I’ve not been updating... my life right now... hard to update without the stimulus of a real world, seeing real people... funny enough, it was FaceTiming with friends across the country that prompted me to get on the keyboard again...
> 
> Thank you all for coming back to read, and to new readers, heyyyyyy (weird but welcoming wave included)
> 
> Drop kudos if you like it and haven’t yet, and if you have, drop your thoughts and comments, critiques... whatever... let me know there are people out therreeeeeeeee!!!!
> 
> Find my yoonmin loving ass on twt @starry4yngi and if you have time on your hands, go ahead and give my other fics a try... and let me know what you think!
> 
> Waiting waiting waiting for my Seasons Greetings to ship and arrive... from some luckies that got theirs already, I’m seeing a lot of Yoonminning!!!!
> 
> That hologram from MAMA... I just want him back 😹
> 
> 🐱🐥🐱🐥


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!
> 
> This one’s a shorty, but you’ll know why after you read it😬

**********************

Jimin nervously straightened his pants, tugging at the perfect fit as if it wasn’t. 

The sun shone through the cloudless sky, limning everything in crisp lines, making his surroundings feel as surreal as what he was doing here. 

Hyperaware of every motion, every object, Jimin took a deep breath, counting to three, before releasing it, and finally pressing the buzzer to the side of the garden door, only able to do so because he could feel the steadying presence of the man behind him, neither urging nor recalcitrant... just there... for him. He looked to the intercom, mentally rehearsing what he would say to get beyond the entrance of the property, to get to the house.

This was Yoongi’s idea... which Jimin had been anxiously enthusiastic over... until this morning, when he fully realized what he was doing... making himself vulnerable, again... 

... and there it was... just a slight brush of fingers against his own... a reminder that he wasn’t alone.

His eyes flew wide as, instead of the crackle of the intercom, the door to the garden opened abruptly, and he was met with the vision of an older woman, much of her hair hidden under a hat, but what was visible was still dark, though with over-generous splashes of white throughout, cut short, yet still stylish, wearing a camel colored sweater over a loose blouse and loose camel pants, garden shears in one hand, gloves sheathing hands.

“Yes?”

Jimin looked into the lined face, noting laugh and grief lines scoring the outside corners of her eyes, the mouth generous, still, in older age... and realized with awe... it was an older vision of his own... 

Jimin opened his mouth to say something, anything, but found that he’d lost his voice... unable to produce a sound, even as he watched the woman looking at first quizzical, then concerned and hesitant, and then riveted as her eyes traveled and traced each feature, looking at him as if she studied him...

Her eyes widened... emotion guarded, but present... “Who are you? Why... who are you?” The first question had been sharp, but the second... the second had been whispered, a small hand coming up to touch her lips.

Jimin stared, open-mouthed, still unable to produce a sound as the two of them stared at one another.

Finally, there was a small sound coming from behind him, which had the woman’s eyes fly over Jimin’s shoulder.

“Yabo?... Who is it?”

Jimin could only watch as a man made his way to the side of the woman.

The man was taller, with graceful lines to his limbs, whereas the woman had a smaller, more compact, stronger build. He still had a thick head of hair, with high cheeks... and eyes that looked familiar.

Jimin just stared at them.

The man had approached with a gentle, curious smile on his face, ready to greet the visitors at their gate.

But seeing Jimin’s face, the affable smile on his face disappeared, and like his wife, he, too, seemed to suddenly study Jimin’s face, nose, lips, eyes... taking in each feature, face hardening, which made Jimin’s stomach sink.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Jimin could feel nausea overwhelm him... rejection... hate... again... he could feel himself shrinking within himself... their tone... their-

“Excuse me... but was this the home of Park Min-jun?” 

Yoongi’s deep, graveled voice seemed to startle the three of them, two sets of eyes flying to him as Jimin stared at the ground.

“I’m sorry if we’re intruding, but we were informed that this was the home of Park Min-jun? The dancer?”

The older man’s face grew cold as the woman’s became painfully blank. “I’m sorry but we can’t help you... please leave...”

The man reached out to put hand to the garden door when Jimin suddenly looked up, desperation giving him his voice. “Please... please... did P- Park Min-jun live here? I need to know... I need-“ he felt himself twist his hands helplessly, unable to get any further with his words.

“I told you... we can’t help-“ the man’s granite tone was interrupted by his wife.

“Wh-why... why are you looking for Park Min-jun’s home?” She seemed to be holding her breath, still staring at Jimin’s face... full of apprehension... almost fear... and buried deep, stunned disbelief...

Jimin looked to the man, meeting the dark eyes that he knew would curve into crescents if his smile grew large enough, then to the woman, who almost trembled in her emotion.

“I’m his son.”

_________________________

Yoongi had spent most of the rest of the day on the phone, an exhausted Jimin a quiet presence always nearby, and Yoongi catered to that by staying on the couch, working his laptop and phone, trying to keep one hand free to comb through the silver hair, tousled but clean, the eyes heavy from shed and unshed tears, trying to be the reassuring presence that Jimin needed.

He had confirmed that Park Jung-Hwa had spent the night in jail - Yoongi had Joon bring up charges against the man for defamation and violence... someone, most likely the man’s lackey assistant, had retrieved the man that was still spewing vileness until firmly told by the officers that he would by hauled back to the jail if he couldn’t control himself.

Yoongi did /not/ tell Jimin that Joon and Jin were delving into Park Jung-Hwa’s history far more deeply than just the past evening... far more deeply... and thoroughly...

But right now, Jin and Joon, as well as Iseul, were busily gently inserting truths about Park Jung-hwa and his most recent abuses, verbal and physical, bruiting it all around their social and business circles. The only mention of Jimin was as the victim of the attack, and they had to release the information that Park Jimin was /not/ the natural born son of Park Jung-Hwa. And that the head of Park Enterprises was fully cognizant of that fact, having promised his wife the boy would be raised as his heir. 

The three then carefully leaked ‘anonymous’ information of Park Jung-Hwa’s cruel stifling of a budding brilliant talent, and that the young man had been forced to face more than simple oppression, leaving it ambiguous, but shaded with reminders of the man’s vile temper, having to grow up with the man he thought of as his father. 

Lee Minjae’s behavior had been attributed to the last straw of having her husband continuing his reprehensible behavior toward their son, everyone finding no fault with her breakdown at the man’s grotesque behavior, attacking not only his son, but the heir of the Min family as well... and lambasting him for breach of marital promise and utter lack of couth...

Only sympathy was floating around for Park Jimin... and some that knew him a little more /intimately/... well, yes, pity... but for those that knew of and had participated in his dark secrets... Joon and Yoongi were personally handling those... and Jimin would have been surprised at how very dark and lethal those otherwise calm, pleasant, and restful personalities could become.

But Jimin knew /something/ was taking place... because the truth was... no one could head a company that didn’t have a steel will and the ability and intelligence to gather and handle power in /some/ way... and he would learn and take confidence in that his new friends were not above wielding their power and influence to save a friend from injustices and harm.

That day in the apartment, cocooned on the deep couch, would always be held near to Jimin’s heart, for as painful as so many of the revelations and events had been... that was the day he first truly felt like a human being for longer than he could almost remember... 

He had someone by his side, Yoongi, gently handling the trust given to him in Jimin’s most vulnerable state... someone to stroke his hair in affection without the tug of arousal... someone to make and bring him food, care taken in what his preferences were, being sure he ate as well as he could... someone who stayed close, there on the couch with him, and offered a solid but soft surface to rest his tired head, often tucking the blanket around his shoulders... someone who was /present/... present for /him/... taking nothing, expecting nothing in return...

... it was as he was falling asleep, again, head resting on a firm, slender thigh, long fingers sliding through his hair, Yoongi had set his phone down again.

“Jimin...”

“Hmmm?” He was so tired...

“That was my mother...”

“Mmmhmmmm...” He knew his own mother was with her, being well looked-after... but he wasn’t ready to speak with her... not now... not so soon...

“Your father-“

Jimin’s eyes flew open, his entire body suddenly tense.

“No, no no... I’m sorry...” Yoongi spoke quickly, regret in his voice. “I meant your biological father...” 

The hand tried to soothe the tenseness and spiked anxiety away, Yoongi unaware that his self-flagellation was apparent on his face. 

Jimin’s eyes looked up, were fixed upon the regretful expression. “Wh-what?”

Yoongi looked contemplatively down at the younger. “Jimin... your father... his name... his name was Park Min-jun...”

Jimin stared, taking in the information, examining it in his head like a Trojan horse... “what... his family name was-“ he tried to speak, hoarse from spent emotion and surprise.

Yoongi nodded gravely. “You are still Park Jimin...”

Jimin didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed... he didn’t want to be the Park Jimin, son of Park Jung-Hwa... but wasn’t sure how he’d feel becoming /something else/ Jimin... afraid of who that might be, could be...

“Do you want to know?” Yoongi asked softly.

Did he? Did he want to know?

“I don’t... I don’t know...” he faltered, ashamed at his cowardice.

He felt the fingers go still in his hair, then move to his chin, gently turning his face back up when he’d tucked in down, not wanting to meet the blond’s gaze.

“It’s okay, Jimin... it’s okay...”

Jimin looked into the dark, canted eyes, feeling again the yearn to be closer to this man... to find out why he wanted to be more to him... aching to be more...

“Your Halmeoni and Hadabeoji are still living in the home he grew up in... they’re an affluent family in Busan...”

Jimin took in that information, then let his eyes, feeling heavier every moment, slide closed.

That was something he would address another time... but right now... he knew... /this/ Park Jimin wasn’t ready... not quite yet.

He turned himself to lay on his side, forehead pressed into the other’s waist. He didn’t bother with words, an answer.

Jimin knew Yoongi would understand.

Yoongi had rested his hand in the silvered hair again, and looked softly down at the cheeks that rounded as the other fell asleep, lips impossibly plush in a squeezed pout, looking so young and infinitely beautiful in his sleep.

“S’okay... baby... you’re going to be okay...” Yoongi didn’t realize his whispered muttering was clung to as Jimin gently slipped over the lip of consciousness into the pool of slumber he still so desperately needed. 

Having picked up his laptop, he missed the plush pout push into the tiniest of smiles as Jimin pulled the words into his heart, relievedly succumbing to the healing blanket of sleep.

**************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He’s back he’s back he’s back... YOONGI’S BACK!!!!
> 
> JUST saw the to-die-for ads for Galaxy... Yoongi and Jimin looking 🔥
> 
> Sorry again for the short update, but for those of you that have read Legato... YOU KNOW!... when something heavy happens, I feel like shorter chapters handle it better...
> 
> Anyway...
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please hit kudos if you’re enjoying and drop those comments... I’d love to hear from you!
> 
> Check out my other fics if you like what you’re reading and find my Yoonmin-worshipping-hot-mess-of-a-self on Twt @starry4yngi!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of a continuation from Ch 13
> 
> Just want to note again, i use / / to emphasize words... i like the visual impact versus italics...

*************************

Jimin swallowed, watching the faces before him turn to shock... then angry disbelief... but as he continued to say nothing, staring at the two, stunned incredulity and fearful hope began to transform their expressions.

The woman gasped, shears dangerously dropped to the ground, raising both trembling hands to her mouth as her husband continued to scan the young man’s face, darting from feature to feature and looking into the brown eyes for any hint of deception or malicious intent.

“Wh-what?... I mean... wh-who are you?” The woman’s voice trembling matched her hands while her husband seemed to be trying to catch his breath with deep inhales.

Jimin felt the light touch at his back, and looking with large eyes at the two in front of him, bowed formally and correctly. “My name is Park Jimin... I was born in Seoul, the thirteenth of October, in 19~~, my mother’s name is-“

“Lee Minjae... Lee Minjae...” The woman, her voice a forced whisper, stared at Jimin, eyes never still.

Jimin nodded, restrained relief in his steady tone, “Yes... my mother is Lee Minjae... and she recently revealed to me that the man I thought my father... is not... that before marrying him, she knew she was pregnant... that the man she’d hoped to marry... the man that... that... she’d been with, hoping to marry, actually... he was-“

“Killed... senselessly, tragically...” The woman’s voice grew empty... as if it was a long hurt that never healed.

Jimin nodded again. “Yes... and soon after, discovered she was pregnant... with me...” He stopped himself from saying anymore, wanting to gauge their reactions.

The man blew out harshly, the gentleness gone from him. “How do we know-“

“Yabo... look at him... /look/ at him... I know you see it...” The woman immediately demanded of her husband, eyes never leaving Jimin’s face.

A bewildered hope had finally come over the older man... but he seemed to stubbornly cling to his suspicion. 

Before anything else could be said, Yoongi stepped forward, presenting his card with both hands and a correct bow.

“My name is Min Yoongi...” The woman who had accepted the card turned to her husband, both heads bent looking over it.

The gentleman looked surprisedly at Yoongi. “Min Yoongi ssi... your father is Min Young-Min...”

Yoongi nodded, Jimin silent next to him.

Jimin was too busy looking over the couple, heart pounding within his chest.

He could see it... he could see bits of himself in the two people in front of him.

Jimin could see the resemblance from his mother, had grown up with that, but he had always surreptitiously compared his features with those of his fa- with Jung-Hwa... and couldn’t see it without a stretch... and often wondered if that was why Jung-Hwa hated him... he knew better, now,... but at the time...

The woman looked to Jimin, then Yoongi, then back to Jimin. “Min Yoongi ssi... you are here...” she let her voice trail.

Yoongi nodded his head to both of them. “Jimin ssi is a very good friend and executive associate at our entertainment company... I am here with him to support him and to be witness... that he is here only to learn more of his birth father and family, if possible... that he is here for no other purpose... he neither wants nor needs anything financial or material from Park Min-Jun’s family or estate...”

The man looked from Yoongi to Jimin, noting Jimin’s clothing and appearance, from the soft, maple-brown hair, his serious expression, bare of any cosmetics aside from sunscreen, and the understated but obviously expensive suit and Italian leather shoes, even noting the luxury watch at his wrist.

His face seemed to relax, thinking that even if the young man was in borrowed finery, he carried himself as if born to it, and there was the irrefutable evidence of an actual chaebol heir next to him, presenting himself as a friend and associate.

And the aged man recognized the face of Min Yoongi ssi, having met his father more than a couple of times at various functions. He knew the son of Min Young-Min would be conscious of the family name and honor and would never be a part of some insidious scheme involving his dead son’s name...

... which meant,... this young man before him,... who had the fine nose of his own dead son,... the lush mouth of his own dear wife... and the eyes... eyes...

The man felt unwonted moisture begin to collect beneath his lids as he slid them closed... it was too much like a miracle... 

... the years... decades he had rued stymying his only son’s romance... the bitter, bitter regret... that had he opened his heart, his mind... he and his wife would have been spending their years with their son and daughter-in-law... spoiling grandchildren... 

Even as these thoughts ran rampant through his mind, his heart, his wife was already taking shaking steps, hands slowly reaching forward... and realizing she still wore gloves, shed them in one graceful, sudden downswing, and reached for the beautiful young man in front of her. “Ji-Jimin?... oh... oh...” Her face of heartbreaking hesitant hope cracked into disbelieving joy and illuminated the worn eyes.

“Sonja... sojunghan sonja...” she pulled Jimin forward, her soft hands gently cupping his jaw, eyes, awash with tears, caressing and learning each feature she had tried to deny to her heart... now embracing them fiercely, her emotions too overcome to say anything else. 

Jimin, at first heartbroken and in dread that these people, too, hated him,... taught that hateful language from the man who had the responsibility of raising him... now stood, looking down at the smaller woman, his eyes shimmering, his heart still stuttering in surprise... 

“Sojunghan sonja...” was the cry that came over and over, as well as mutters of “... adeul... adeul... sadanganeun adeul... he is here... sojunghan sonja is here...”

Jimin could barely keep his eyes open, so full of tears that they spilled over, and felt a strong hand at his shoulder, gripping him... but even as he looked to the older, taller man... the grip was anything but the kind of grip he’d been used to for so long... this was a touch of love... a grasp onto something so precious, the wonder that could be felt through the hand seemed to be afraid it would fly away without a tether...

“Sonja?... Our sonja?” The man’s voice unashamedly broke, dashing his own tears away with the back of his hand, leaning over his wife to be closer to this newly discovered light in their world... something beautiful and precious and completely unlocked for, though longed for with crying and regretful hearts for years upon years by the old couple.

Jimin could only nod, his throat aching with... happiness, shock... and a feeling that he would only recognize later... peace... a kind of unutterable peace... some of the deepest rents in his heart finally coming together...

Yoongi had moved quietly to the side, his own eyes so full of emotion... 

Yoongi took much of his life seriously... his family... his work... his friends... those he was responsible for... those he cared for. And anything involving Jimin... well... he had done his homework before encouraging the younger to pursue this meeting.

He had heard that Park Seong-su was a good man, somewhat stern, but a very respected and admired man amongst his peers and his employees, for decades. Unbeknownst to Jimin, Yoongi had Joon and Jin track down as much personal information on the couple as could be found... personal, as in their relationships with their friends, family... to one another... to find out what kind of people they were...

Yoongi felt responsible in encouraging Jimin to seek out the bastions of his biological father, to perhaps make new connections that would help anchor him to his new life,... a life that Park Jung-Hwa had no part of...

He winced when he remembered Tae glibly but all-too-accurately pointing out that the grandparents could be terrible people, but would still look like upright, loving relations when placed next to Park Jung-Hwa. 

Yoongi discovered how, after the death of their son, they had gone into deep mourning... setting up dance scholarships and other charities in the name of their only son... 

... and having gotten in touch with closer business associates through his father, remaining evasive about why he wanted the information, Yoongi had learned that the man had mentioned more than once through the years friends and even in some of the presentations and speeches he delivered, how a man had to take the time to weigh new information, however unwelcome, to look beyond initial reactions to explore situations... before unthinking words and actions were spoken and committed... that consequences that could from them could be far more permanent and regrettable than could be conceived... unsalvageable...

Yoongi now knew the couple had lived in bitter self-condemnation... mourning their son... mourning their actions in not accepting his choice of spouse... and had a feeling that, once they verified the fact of a grandson... they would most likely be open to meeting Jimin... possibly want to build a relationship with Jimin.

And Jimin, Yoongi knew... Jimin needed as much love as he deserved... and hadn’t received. 

The months in the interim from discovering his true parentage to this meeting had been fraught with activity.

There was the civil and criminal charges being brought up against Park-Jung-Hwa... not only was he fending off attack from Jimin’s well-informed, well-connected /friends/, but also from the board of directors from his own corporation, deals falling through left and right, partnerships dissolving, however unsavory some of them were...

The man had been an enraged bull, shooting his mouth off, condemning Lee Jin-Ae and her son, Park Jimin, as materialistic whores,... trying to claim he’d been tricked and used for his money... refuting any claim to the young man... and ready to reveal all of the insidiously filthy activities Park Jimin had been a part of... ready to drag him through the mud of his own making... until... more than one dark figure had contacted Jung-Hwa, reminding him that if Jimin was pulled into the spotlight, to show everyone the filth that clung to his activities... that more than a few metaphoric cockroaches, too, would be sent scurrying... and waking far more sinister nemeses that Jung-Hwa wouldn’t survive rousing.

Many were already angry and feeling somewhat threatened... Park Jung-Hwa had given them a toy, making them promise many things, then abruptly taking their plaything from them... and they weren’t happy. 

And what made everything worse... Park Jimin wasn’t just going to fade as a by-word, a kicked up scandal to disappear and be forgotten... Park Jimin had made powerful friends, of multi-generational wealth and influence... and had somehow floated to the top, an integral and highly-visible part of a new enterprise, made up of the elite of the next generation that had been groomed for ascension to power in many of the country’s leading industries...

Park Jimin was fast becoming untouchable... and Park Jung-Hwa was not...

Yoongi and his friends were nothing if not thorough... they sifted through Jimin’s past, with his cooperation, trying to find and tie and cut or burn every loose end that could come back to hurt him... all the while growing their fledgling entertainment company that was about to launch their first debut act in a few more months... Jimin thankfully completely absorbed in nurturing and contributing to the choreo for music videos and various stages for their protégées.

Jimin’s life had completely turned around.

After an excruciating interview with his mother, his resentment still a hard ball within his gut, his heart, he did try to wrap his head around the situation that Min-jae found herself in at the time... still grieving, unable to attend the services for her beloved, rebuffed by his family... and her own family, knowing there would be no support there if she didn’t adhere to the kind of life they expected from her... which didn’t include being a single mother with a child out of wedlock.

Jimin had stared at the face, the remnants of beauty still visible... she looked vastly better under the care and protection of the Mins than she had of her husband. 

She wasn’t hysterical as she spoke her piece, no longer trying to beg for Jimin’s forgiveness... she just accepted that his life was her responsibility... that nothing could salvage the fact that she had failed miserably in her role as protector for her baby, regardless of age...

Jin-ae did encourage Jimin to reach out to his father’s family... she had shown him pictures that she had kept closely hidden, unable to bear wiping out the fact of their relationship...mementos from dates,... plushies he’d won for her... notes and cards he’d written...

Jimin had stared at the evidences that he had been the product of a real, consuming love... his real father had loved and been so enamored by his mother... the notes silly and sweet, the pics of the man having hearts in his eyes as his girlfriend snapped photo after photo... and the stills of his dance practices... the beauty and professionalism he could see in the lines of his body...

He had thrown himself into his work, but in the nighttime, after Yoongi and whomever else he had spent time with, had dinner with... when they were gone, Jimin would sit in his own practice studio, lights low, and would sift through the physical tokens of a man he’d never know... but felt something within him want to love, was growing to love...

And Yoongi had stayed by his side, encouraging, supportive... but not overbearing, not over-protective... he supported the young man by putting him in situations in which Jimin would have to make decisions,... real, impactful decisions, regarding the company and their dancers... they’d gotten Hobie on board to practice and train with the ‘former’ dancer, until he could be called ‘former’ no longer...

Yoongi was right... the talent and ability still lay there... latent, waiting to be nurtured to bloom... in so many other professions, Jimin’s age was still so young, just starting, but in the world of professional contemporary dance, this wasn’t the case... but in this day and age, there were now so many new career opportunities to make dance a profession... and he was in one, with the company...

Jimin’s choreography and teaching lent a grace and flair that was unique unto him... when he took the floor, he transformed... and the other dancers, young and seasoned, could see it, recognize his indisputable gift... and Jimin learned a new kind of confidence, knowing he was admired for a talent, a gift, he had... but also...

As Yoongi brought him into the fold of the business aspect of the company, his insights and understanding of far-reaching repercussions of financial decisions and the researched and weighted proposals he had finally volunteered, as he became more confident, revealed a well-educated, well-developed business acumen that Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin learned to prize and rely on... both of them realizing that, once again, Yoongi had been nothing but honest when he had tried to tell them, repeatedly, there was so much more to Park Jimin than the world knew... than they knew...

All of this brought them here, the distinguished older couple reduced to crying grandparents, having found something they had thought lost forever... not even lost,... the /idea/ of something precious lost forever...

Their son was gone in a senseless tragedy they had and would always feel responsible for... but here was a piece of him... not just a memory or photo... something static... here, within their reach, was a living, breathing, beautiful piece of their son’s future and immortality they had thought impossible...

Park Jimin.

As the couple cried over him, the woman unable to resist pulling him into her arms, and both of them being held by the taller man, who repeatedly worked his mouth and dashed tears from his eyes, Yoongi stood to the side, completely happy to have been forgotten but able to witness this for Jimin...

And Jimin... his own tears falling from his face, wonder in his own creased eyes... he was overcome... his /Halmeoni/... his /hadabeoji/... they /wanted/ him... he was /wanted/...

After the very wet and vocal realization, they were both ushered into the beautiful, understated expensive home, the expansive garden seen as they made their way to the entrance of the house.

Jimin’s grandmother rushed from her shoes, her eyes never leaving Jimin, as she called out to presumably a housekeeper, shouting for beverages and food. Her face dropped as she seemed to come to a realization.

“Oh, my precious... what... I don’t even... what do you like to eat?... actually, what /don’t/ you like to eat?... omo... Hee-ja!” She called out as a middle-aged woman entered the foyer. “Hee-ja... quickly! I need food and drinks brought... very important... hurry! Just bring everything... look how thin they are!” 

Jimin couldn’t help but giggle amidst his denials that they needed anything, or that anything would be fine, finally getting a taste of what people around the world had endured from older female relatives for generations.

His grandfather excused himself, telling him he needed to get out of his ‘work’ clothes, but in reality, the man had wanted a moment to relish the finding, to dash one last set of tears from his eyes, and his heart thanking his dead son and god for bringing this unlocked-for but unknowingly-longed-for gift.

Jimin, even in the middle of this unfamiliar loving chaos, kept looking to Yoongi, needing the rock that had been nearby for months now... nearby to lean upon, to stand upon, to put a hand on... whenever he felt indecision, small... undeserving... there was the quiet presence that seemed to encourage him, even in silence... 

As they found themselves seated around a table laden with beautiful, tempting rice cakes and cunningly presented cut fruits until more substantial fare could be prepared and brought out, Jimin found himself seated between the two, Yoongi not shy in helping himself to the food as he reveled in the sight before him.

The couple wanted to know everything... everything about this grandson, this already-treasured grandson, their sojunghan sonja, even as the old woman’s eyes shined, touching the shining, softly-parted brown hair, touched the high cheeks, so familiar... drank in the eye-smiles and refused to let any regret ruin this moment... regret of not seeing this beautiful young man as the chubby-cheeked youth he must have been, the chubby baby legs trying to propel him for the first time,... the first smiles... the first firsts... and reminded herself to not be greedy... that this was already a treasure greater than any she had thought to have in her life before death would finally claim /them/ in turn, and for the first time in many, many years, hoped she had years still stretched before her, to get to know this child... to teach him that he was family, a missed, yearned for member of their family...

Jimin, basking in a kind of love he had never known... a grandparents’ love... felt his face almost hurt from looking over photos and memorabilia that the couple had of their son... recognizing so many things in the softly-smiling man that looked out at him from the paper... saw the competitions and trophies... and shed quiet tears as his grandmother, his /halmeoni/, had asked for something to be retrieved and had gingerly placed the parcel in his hands. Jimin’s own hands shook as he unraveled the paper and saw the well-preserved small dance shoes that once belonged to his father.

Heart full, he lost himself in this day... answering questions, asking so many of his own... and the entire time, feeling a small hand cup his cheek, small touches to his nose, his own small hands grasped again and again, the old woman touch-starved for a child for so long... he groaningingly protested when desserts began to be presented after their feast-like meal had been cleared, his grandmother chiding him for being too thin, even if he was a dancer, bemoaning how her own Min-jun would laugh at her antics even as her eyes sparkled, having the privilege of doing the same to his own son...

As darkness slowly descended to overtake the outside skies, Jimin, loathe, made mention of having to leave, at which his grandmother promptly burst into tears.

Yoongi, speaking rarely, mentioned how they had hotel reservations, in the event that Park Min-jun’s family would welcome a lost grandson... and was immediately grasped bodily, to his astonishment, shaken back and forth, scolded for making an old woman cry by said-old-woman, exhorting him to cancel those reservations and stay with them... they had plenty of room... that no hotel they could think of could provide the kind of comfort and food that their grandson needed after such an eventful day, such emotional outpourings...

And again, Jimin could only smile until he felt as if his face would break from the force of it... this wasn’t even a dream he could imagine... this kind of enthusiasm for... him... just... him, Park Jimin.

“Hyung? Okay?” Jimin looked anxiously at the elder, unsure how comfortable the older would be...

Jimin had learned that as social as Yoongi was, could be,... he often needed a lot of his own time to decompress and prepare himself to be social... that at heart, he was something more of an introvert, but pushed his own boundaries in the name of success.

The older couple looked to Yoongi and back to Jimin. “You two are close?” Park Seong-su asked, his voice completely void of any judgement or aspersions... just curiosity.

Jimin nodded, then bit his lip. “Yes... Yoongi has helped me so much... especially... especially at a time when I needed a friend... and thought I had none...”

The couple looked gravely at the younger two again, this time sensing that as much as Jimin had revealed, there was much that hadn’t been... especially concerning his family...

Yoongi spoke immediately. “I first got to know Jimin a little through his dance... his competitions and seeing him perform... /win/... “ Jimin smiled at the other, shyly still... “... and later, having learned of his business acumen, was lucky enough to lure him into becoming a part of the new company my friends and I had dreamed of... and his talents have made him indispensable to our endeavors...” His eyes sparkled as he revealed information that he hadn’t even shared with Jimin yet. “My father keeps trying to negotiate with me to bring him on board for the family company... but I’d never get in on his schedule if my father and the board ever got their hands on our Jiminie... too talented and astute by far...” he joked, though they could all tell he was completely serious.

Jimin’s mouth had opened at Yoongi’s revelation, then bent forward in his delighted laughter. “Oh, hyung... I’m sure I’d always find a little time to squeeze you in...”

And the couple looked to one another, very quickly, then looked from their new grandson to his friend, connections being made in their heads and their hearts open... their loss and the life they’d lived after had taught them too much for their hearts and minds to be closed to anything, however unexpected, that involved the love and loving of family... breathing, living family.

And as Yoongi smiled and said he would cancel their reservations, Jimin’s grandmother took him aside and quietly asked if one or two rooms should be prepared for them.

Trying to hide the regret in his voice, Jimin smilingly assured her that Yoongi would be more comfortable with his own space.

She nodded her head even as she motioned for their housekeeper. “I find that somewhat hard to believe, sonja, but if you say so-“ she murmured under her breath, having seen the chestnut blond’s eyes fix so often on their grandson, eyes flooded with softness and caring... 

Jimin started, staring at the small retreating form, then blushed, unready for such a comment, especially from his grandmother, especially /without/ some kind of negativity... in fact, she had sounded...

“Jimin? Everything ok?... /you/ ok?” Yoongi had seen the moment of startled blankness on the younger’s face.

Jimin looked over at him... seeing the canted eyes, always so aware of him... the pursed mouth... the expectant air... ready to take action, if that was what was needed... if /he/ needed.

They’d yet to go on their official date... Jimin bringing it up often while the two were out for dinners together... questioning when it would happen as they shared popcorn when taking in a movie,... abusing Yoongi as a promise-breaker as they strolled through market streets, taking in cart-food and sharing bungeoppang... even as Yoongi held their champagne glasses at a recent fashion show, Jimin collecting their swag bags before finding their seats, smiling and nodding to acquaintances and business associates, Jimin’s pout and exhortations put on hold as he graciously accepted thanks and praise for his own contributions to a merger, a dance choreo... until they were seated, resuming his attack that Yoongi was a shifty character, overworking him with false promises,... 

Yoongi answered him again and again the same way... not yet... it would happen... one day soon... and even on bad days, Jimin curled up on a couch, smothered in too-big clothes and a blanket, a large hand sifting through the then-newly dyed soft maple-brown hair, remained unperturbed as Jimin accused him of perpetrating a complete fabrication, even as the plump lips accepted being fed whatever take-away he’d been in the mood for, tears and insecurities forgotten in lamenting the date he’d been promised but had yet to realize...

Jimin’s face softened, unaware of his grandparents watching, as he smiled very softly, and nodded. “Yes, hyung... I am...”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Please share your thoughts and if you ARE reading and enjoying... kudos, please? Otherwise i can’t tell if the story’s a big fail...
> 
> This should wrap up pretty soon, but if you like my writing check out my other fics and come love Yoonmin with me on twt @starry4yngi
> 
> I’m missing Yoongi right now, so I’m rewatching BV4 AGAIN... i love them so much!
> 
> 🥰🥰😭😭😭😍😍😍🥰😘😘😍😍🥰😍🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻
> 
> 🐱🐥🐱🐥🐱🐱🐥🐱🐥🐱🐥🐱🐥


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little short... hope you enjoy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I use // instead of italics to emphasize words...
> 
> Thanks for coming back to read!

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Jimin smiled as he placed the final touches of his light lip stain.

He looked over himself approvingly, telling himself he was /not/ taking extra care of his appearance because Yoongi was finally back from the negotiations he’d been heading in China for his father. 

He’d been incredibly busy with work, and getting to know his grandparents, who had come frequently to Seoul to meet with him, go to dinner, to shows... even to catch a movie...

The Parks couldn’t get enough of their grandson. 

Jimin never not noticed the awe that would come to their faces every time they met with him, and it warmed his soul, filling cracks that had been in place for years. They told him many stories of his father, and always discovered new pictures or mementos they had to share, to gift him with.

Yoongi was often with him, and he knew the couple would often trade glances between them, watching he and Yoongi... and they always had small, pleased smiles.

Jimin sighed. Yoongi had been gone for over two weeks... which wasn’t that long... but it felt long,... there had been many small moments Jimin had held his phone to call or text the other to have lunch, dinner... drinks on the couch... before recalling he was out of the country.

Kookie and Tae often came to him, invited him to their shopping outings, a drink, to catch a meal... but it wasn’t the same.

Seokjin continued to hold him at somewhat of an arm’s distance, but it was far friendlier than he’d been... and Jimin could understand somewhat... Namjoon and Seokjin often watched Yoongi and Jimin when they were together... seeing the light skin ship... the awareness each had of the other... and he knew they were concerned, concerned for their longtime friend...

Jimin blew out a breath.

Whatever. 

After the morning meeting, he was going to go to the airport to meet Yoongi, surprise him... Jimin smiled again as he flicked a last hair into place and ran out of his room to grab his coat... it was becoming chilly with autumn well-established.

Just as he was going into the elevator, his phone blew up.

Hyung-ho, the new intern that was shadowing his own secretary, was calling. “Sajangnim, I just received a message from the publishing office... they can’t finish the proof... they’re not sure about some of the information for the press releases... their intern seemed to have not followed up on the discovery... they’ve already found one mis-assigned name... no... I think they’d rather have someone in person verify at this point... you were the only one to answer your phone...”

Tilting his head back, Jimin sighed. The office was a little out of the way... “... they’re sorry for the inconvenience... they’ll send a car to you... I mean, they offered and I just sent the text to them about your address... they’ll be there shortly...”

Jimin’s mouth thinned into a small line. It didn’t sit well that his personal information had been so freely shared... but the intern was still in uni... “Hyung-ho, next time, please check with whomever it is before you give out that kind of information.” And at his profuse, nervous apology, babbling about convenience, Jimin nodded his head, looking at his watch. “All right... please let the others know I’ll be missing the morning meeting, but I should be there before lunch, so I’ll be able to go over the studio bookings... yes,... very good.”

Slipping his phone into his pocket, he shook his head... he should still be able to get everything accomplished in time to meet Yoongi’s plane.

Jimin stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby.

He was determined to make today a good day.

___________________________________

Yoongi headed for the office immediately.

“Just drop my luggage at home, Woojin ssi... I’ll get a ride with one of the others if I need anything today...”

Woojin bowed his head in acknowledgement in the car, thanking Yoongi. 

If he had a small smile as he saw his boss almost flee from the car, he kept it to himself. 

He was a big fan of the always respectful and pleasant Park Jimin ssi.

__________________________________

To say Yoongi had been disappointed to not see Jimin at the office would have been an understatement, but he kept it well-hidden.

Seeing everyone heading in to the conference hall, he’d quickly looked around for the brunette, and was puzzled to not see him.

“Hyung! You made it!” Joon greeted him with a clap to his back. “You must have come straight here from your flight,” he said with a knowing glint in his eye.

Yoongi looked wryly at the other, shaking his head even as he was hailed by Jin. “Yoongi! Glad to see you’re not trying to get any rest after two agonizing weeks of negotiations...” The chastising sarcasm dripped from his words, though affection was clear in his gaze.

“Just didn’t want to miss-“

Jin rolled his eyes. “We know exactly /who/ you didn’t want to miss...”

Yoongi felt a slight flush come to his cheeks.

He, himself, hadn’t realized how long the two weeks would be without the sweet presence of the younger man he’d come to feel so much for... unofficially.

Yoongi knew Jimin was getting frustrated with their stasis of relationship, but he still felt it wasn’t right to start a dating relationship without Jimin firmly established with his own life... he didn’t want to just be an anchor for him,... or just the first person to show the amazing young man his true worth and have Jimin feel misguided gratitude or affection for him because of that.

He was trying to give Jimin plenty of space and room to grow and flourish.

He was trying to be a good man and allow the other the time he needed to ground himself, to relearn himself.

He was trying to do the right thing.

And it was killing him.

Slowly.

Again and again.

Yoongi couldn’t count the number of times he’d had to stop himself from allowing their interactions to go further...

... couldn’t let Jimin know how much he wanted to throw the other up against a wall and kiss him senseless... to pull the younger up against him, seeing mischievous sparkles in his eyes as they good-naturedly bickered about various things... to see if he could conjure something more intimate than the bright smiles and effervescent laughter from the beautiful, amazing young man that resided in his mind... and heart... 24/7... 

Yoongi sighed. “Is he not here?”

“Jimin’s not here...” Hobie had a towel slung around his neck, looking sweaty, so they knew he’d just come from the practice studio floor. “His intern left me a message this morning that he wouldn’t be able to make it... the publishing company handling the press release needed to verify information... their intern dropped the ball and-“

“What press release?” Yoongi interrupted, his face pulled into a scowl.

Confusion marring the normal good-natured mien, Joon looked at Hobie, rearing his head back. “Yeah, what press release? The debut information was being delivered, beginning tomorrow... I saw the shipping costs myself... we expedited delivery because they’d already had a misprint they’d had to correct...” Joon turned to look at Yoongi. “We’re not using them again, hyung... it’s been one thing after another with them... I don’t know why we didn’t go with our normal company...”

Yoongi shook his head. “Fine... as long as they went out properly-“

Joon nodded affirmation. “I proofed everything myself, including the hard copy before it left the docks...”

The whole time, Jin had remained silent, then looked questioningly at Yoongi. “So why would they call Jimin in?”

Yoongi stared at the eldest, unblinking, aware of the people gathering in the room, shuffling laptops and papers around.

“Where’s his secretary... the intern?” Yoongi asked quietly.

Joon had pulled out his phone, making calls as Jin stared at Yoongi. “It’s... it’s probably another oversight on their part, Yoongi... I’m sure-“

“He’s gone... the intern... he never came in today?” Joon’s voice rose in question as he looked to Hobie, who looked confused.

“There was a note on my desk... in the office... I saw it after practice...”

“When did you get into your office?” Yoongi asked tersely.

“Just... just now... I went straight to the studios... I would have sent out a text, but just thought I’d tell everyone since I was coming up, anyway...”

Yoongi stood, his heart beginning to race as Joon started dialing.

“Where is Jimin’s secretary?”

Hobie flinched at the cold in Yoongi’s voice.

Joon was on the phone again, while Jin was looking at the shorter grimly. “Yoongi, you don’t think-“

“Yes, this is Kim Namjoon... did you call for a proof verification of a publishing order from us today?... ah, yes, I’m aware that went out already...” Joon shook his head as he hit another contact. “Hyung... they said the same thing I said... our only order went out... and now...” they waited, breathless, hearing the ringing go to voicemail. “... now I can’t get a hold of Jimin’s secretary... - hyung...”

Yoongi snapped at the taller. “Joon... cover the meeting... I need to find out what’s happening...”

Without a backward glance or another word, Yoongi whipped around to head back to the suites of offices, striding away so quickly he was out of the room before the others could register what his departure meant.

“Fuck. What-“

Joon looked at Jin. “Jung-Hwa has been watched, awaiting his trial... he’s kept his nose to the ground... we haven’t heard anything... Yoongi made sure he was being kept tabs on...”

Hobie’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my god... you think he’s done something to Jimin?”

Jin clenched his fist. “That mother fu- Joon!” He waved his hand at two of the men that were obviously waiting for some direction to start the meeting, one answering his phone. “Tell Seo-Joon and Beom-hee to take over... I think we need to stay with Yoongi- I don’t think this will be good...”

Even as Joon approached the two men, Jin was pulling out his own phone. “I’m calling Tae and Kookie... see if they know anything...”

Joon had returned and began ushering the other two out of the door. “Hyung’s blowing through the offices like a knife looking for the intern... Seo-Joon already got a call... everyone’s too nervous to ask what he’s doing... never seen him like that, they said...”

The three walked as briskly as they could without actually running... until they reached the hall... then they raced for the stairs to get to the suites.

“What the fuck could that asshole be up to now?” Jin huffed as he raced after Joon.

“God... I don’t even want to try to imagine...”

They didn’t stop running until they saw the small clusters of people standing stock still, watching one shorter figure that seemed to emanate a frost from his entire being.

“So, no one on this floor knows anything more about an intern that’s been here for /months/, nor seen an executive’s secretary that didn’t show up today with no contact... someone who is known for his prompt attendance?”

“Sa-sajangnim... we... Park Jimin ssi didn’t arrive...we assumed he was with-“

Yoongi held up a hand at the stuttering woman, brave enough to answer the steely tones.

“Yoongi...Yoongi... come on... let’s check with Jimin’s building... they have cctv at the entrances... we can at least see what time he left... check to see if anyone came by...”

One young man stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Sajangnim... I know his driver... he came in by himself... he said Park Jimin ssi had dismissed him... someone had sent a driver for him... something about an unexpected meeting...”

Yoongi’s eyes honed in on the young man. “Where is the driver?” He almost barked, even as Jin placed a warning hand on the younger’s arm.

The man bowed again. “He’s actually out, taking-“

“Get him back here. Now.”

Yoongi’s tone had multiple people pulling out their phones to call in the driver. 

Yoongi turned as he addressed everyone. “Tell him to meet me in our lobby as soon as possible, no stops, no other contact.”

The three friends quietly trailed after their friend, looking through their own contacts. 

“Jin, call Jimin’s building... have them ready with all cctv footage from... 6am... Joon... find out from Jin-ae if she’s had any communication with Park Jung-Hwa... anything at all... Hobie... find out who hired that kid... where Jimin’s secretary lives... anything...”

Yoongi’s heart was pounding within his rib cage.

If anything happened to Jimin... if anything /was happening/ to Jimin... his jaw clenched. 

He would be sure they would /know/ that they’d /never/ understood the concept of regret as they would if they had done a single thing to hurt Park Jimin. 

******************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Sorry about the lag - was celebrating my birthday for a good solid week... or longer 🤣
> 
> I’ll try to not take too much time to get the next chapter up...
> 
> If you like what you’re reading, please hit kudos, and drop a few comments... writers live to hear from readers... this one does, anyway!!!!
> 
> If you came to this first, give my other fics a try and find my yoonmin-loving ass on twt @starry4yngi!!!!!!!!!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shortie...

************************

Jimin sat quietly, trying to memorize each of the faces around him even as he tried to keep his panic at bay.

He desperately wished he’d followed up on his sudden urge to text Yoongi that he’d wanted to meet him at the airport... or to Namjoon to let him know where he was going... he wasn’t sure he could count on his intern to let everyone know about the unexpected errand... 

Biting his inner cheek, he twisted his hands as unobtrusively as he could, trying to figure out how much give he had with his hands zip-tied... almost none... they already cut a little cruelly into his delicate wrist skin without much movement.

Catching the small movement, the man across from him backhanded him across the face, not with a lot of power, but it was still humiliating, and it still stung.

Jimin felt himself being eyed, and refusing to back down, tossed his head and tilted his chin up.

The silence was unnerving... there wasn’t anything to distract him... to distract them from him.

Jimin’s thoughts felt like they were both running a million miles an hour /and/ frozen in place.

He’d been somewhat taken aback by the luxury limo that had pulled up to meet him, the dark windows not letting him see what was inside... but when the pleasant looking driver had greeted him without a side look or anything else to give away anything, Jimin had smiled and stepped into the car as the door was held open for him...

It wasn’t until he was seated looking forward, with the door abruptly closed, that Jimin became aware there were others in the car with him... and was shocked and unprepared as hands seemed to come from everywhere, holding him, grasping his wrists and binding them, something shoved into his mouth even as his legs were bound before he could be prepared to kick and shout... and then was slapped brutally across the face, the first time, to stop him from wriggling in evasion...

As he sat back, stunned, he felt hands ruffling at his coat, his pockets, and felt his cell phone removed and powered off... his mind trying to process what was happening.

His father.

This had to be his father.

But how?

Trying to systemize his breathing, to try to get his heart to stop pounding hard enough to shatter ribs, Jimin reviewed everything that had happened this morning.

Just the phone call... that was the only unusual thing... the normal morning meeting scheduled, there had been other mistakes make with their advertising copy... usually others handled it... but his intern had specifically stated he couldn’t get a hold of anyone else...

Ah.

That was unusual.

Joon was always available... and if not, everyone knew, if you shot him a text, you’d receive /some/ kind of answer, even if it was ‘get back to you soon’...

Jimin cursed himself for not questioning the unusual call... why his intern? Why wasn’t it his secretary?

Why had he not wondered more at the unusual request?

... Yoongi...

He’d been too excited to see Yoongi.

He tried to hold back tears.

A face suddenly thrust in front of his eyes, a disbelieving sneer in front of his nose.

“He was right... little bitch is just a crybaby...”

Jimin took a deep breath, trying to blink rapidly, refusing to turn his face away from the nondescript man leaning into his face.

He kept the picture of Yoongi, smiling at him, encouraging him, in the forefront of his mind... Jimin tried to figure out how long it would be before Yoongi or the others would discover he wasn’t where he should be.

Tae... Tae might suspect that Jimin might try to meet Yoongi at the airport... he was incredibly intuitive...

So... almost two hours, at the least... 

Because if he didn’t show up for the meeting, the intern may have let the others know he’d miss it...

But if Yoongi returned... and knowing Yoongi, Jimin internally blushed, he would probably head to the office to meet them... him... and Tae would know, if he hadn’t been at the meeting, and wasn’t with Yoongi, Yoongi having been gone for two weeks... knowing how much Jimin had been looking forward to his return...

Minimum... one hour, perhaps an hour and a half... but that was only if Yoongi’s flight went well,... nothing delayed... and he didn’t stop at his place, first...

Jimin turned his head to look out of the still-dark windows... they were moving out of the districts he was familiar with, but looked to be staying in the city...

Looking once more at the men around him, Jimin tried to keep his face impassive while he was met with blank stares... aside from the one man who continued to hold the faint sneer on his face.

Heart still racing, Jimin tried to breath around the gag, holding the picture of Yoongi in his mind even as he tried to figure out what he was going to do.

__________________________________

“Yes, Abeoji... he’s been taken...”

The six friends were in Jimin’s apartment, having reviewed the cctv footage... Joon was already trying to track down the car they’d seen... identify the driver...

Jin was on his phone, trying to hunt down any information on the intern and to find Jimin’s secretary...

Hobie was combing through the the company’s records, trying to figure out when the intern had stopped at his office...

Tae and Kookie had just arrived, staring at Yoongi, wide-eyed, as he spoke tersely with his father.

“I’m sending you all of the information now... the car... the man...” Yoongi huffed a quick, short breath. “I don’t understand how he could have done this... we’ve had such close watch on him...”

“What.”

Jin’s eyes flicked to the younger as he suddenly froze, his face going glacial.

“No... I didn’t know...” his voice could have sliced diamonds... “No one informed me-“

Now he had the attention of everyone in the room. “I understand, Abeoji... yes... please keep me informed...”

Yoongi stared out of the window, over the city, as his father ended the call...

Jimin was missing.

Jimin was /taken/.

“Yoongi...”

Jin could see the tightening of Yoongi’s already tight jaw.

“Jung-Hwa is right where he’s expected to be... but...” Yoongi looked over at Joon. “Lee Kwang-hyok...”

“Hyung...” Joon’s voice was thick with tension. “Fuck... I’m sorry, hyung... I never thought he’d be able to... well, that he’d do /anything/...”

Yoongi, voice hollow, looked to the rest of the group. “Lee Kwang-hyok... he was released two months ago... we know he’d gone to Singapore... but Abeoji said he’d then gone onto China at some point... and he’d been identified only recently as having returned to Seoul...”

Jin objected, “-but his brother’s been-“

Yoongi shook his head. “He’s been out of touch ever since the CEO resigned... cut all ties with him... had to... to protect his own agenda... Abeoji is contacting him now...”

Hobie stared. “Who is...?”

Jungkook tugged at his sleeve, whispering in his ear, the choreographer’s eyes widening with each word.

Jin looked to his friend. “Yoongi... what... what can we do...”

Yoongi walked forward, seeing the mug of unfinished tea on the table, cold... cold, unfinished... Jimin had probably been too hurried to eat breakfast... a bad habit he’d scolded the younger for... hadn’t even finished his tea... 

Yoongi narrowed his eyes.

“We’re going to find that fucking bastard...” He turned away, pinning Joon with his eyes. “I want /every/ property Lee Kwang-hyok has or does own... everything... from businesses to residences... Abeoji is trying to get his phone traced, but he’s probably working from a burner... the police have been notified of the car...”

Joon was already back on his laptop, typing furiously, as Jin spoke quietly, looking up contacts on his own phone, trying not to feel the futility of their attempts to find Jimin before something could happen to him... if something hadn’t, already.

Ignoring everyone around him, Yoongi had a sinking feeling in his gut... 

If only he’d given in to his feelings and let himself be with Jimin... if only he’d listened to the younger, to take him on that date... though he’d /been/ taking him on countless unofficial dates, enjoying their teasing banter, Jimin’s playful pouting... and with every one, falling deeper and harder for the beauty, inside and out, of the younger, the brilliance of his talent, his mind... 

... falling ever deeper for his sweetness that somehow had remained alive despite the cold upbringing, despite the horror of his life the past recent years... 

... then he would have taken him on his business trip... would have had him right next to him... would have had him safe...

Yoongi tried to regulate his breathing, reminding himself there was no time for regret, for ‘should haves’... he had to find Jimin, and now... 

__________________________

Jimin sighed with relief as the tie at his ankles was neatly sliced away, but didn’t get the relief of having the same done to his wrists.

He allowed himself to be dragged out of the car, but with the tugging and shoving, tripped on the pavement and managed to save himself from too much injury when he fell to the hard concrete, but couldn’t stop the sudden jolt of his chin bouncing painfully, the gag stopping him from biting his tongue, but making him suddenly fall into a fit of coughing as he’d sucked in air from the shock of pain of his now-abraded chin. 

“Fuck... he’s gonna choke...” One man grumbled, trying to jerk the smaller man to his feet even as Jimin could feel his face go red.

His jaw ached as he felt the wad of cloth plucked from his mouth as he worked his now free mouth from side to side, breathing heavily as he was jerked upright.

“One word, asshole, and it goes right back in.” 

Even as the man spoke, Jimin had been eyeing his surroundings as thoroughly as possible, hoping to be able to recognize one of Jung-Hwa’s properties... but nothing was familiar...

... and the area... it was residential... but nothing he expected... he was in front of an old tenement building... looking as if it had seen better days... there was an old hadabeoji sitting on a cement step, smoking a cigarette, studiously /avoiding/ looking at the men and the car... and a young girl, mouth round, staring at /him/... until an older girl tugged her away, her face frightened as she met his pleading eyes...

She was scolding the younger even as some of the men noticed her presence, though she was at somewhat of a distance.

“Get him inside.” Came the command, and Jimin felt himself being propelled forward, looking once more, desperately at the two girls, who were turning away...

Feeling a fleeting hope disappear, Jimin tried to re-marshal his thoughts and breath, and tried to tell himself he could meet with whatever was awaiting him...

... until he entered the building, and there, at the base of the stairwell...

Jimin drew in a shocked, deep, horrified breath.

It was the disgusting CEO from the charity benefit weekend so many months ago... and from the night he’d learned the truth about himself, about his non-relationship to Park Jung-Hwa.

For the first time, Jimin felt all of his confidence that he could manage whatever was going to come to him drain down his body and leave him a ball of anxious and terrified nausea.

****************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still with me?
> 
> Those familiar with my stuff, you know I end up doing short bursts when these kinds of things happen, but I try to post chapters faster so you’re not left hanging too long...
> 
> Drop comments and hit those kudos if you’re enjoying, and try my other fics.
> 
> Some of you thought this was ending soon... and it’s certainly not going to go for too much longer... I can’t do that to Jimin in this one nor to Yoongi... it’s been too brutal for our darling Jimin to endure much more...
> 
> Remember I’m forever about happy ending yoonmin... anything else is inconceivable in my soul...
> 
> -and thanks for the happy birthdays😘-
> 
> Come find me on twt @starry4yngi and see me dead on the daily swooning over these two


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!

******************************

Jimin sat on the bed, looking dully at the man in front of him, whose heavy breath and thick, wet lips made his stomach revolt.

“Ah... Jimin... it all started with you... I’ve lost so much because of you...”

The hollow voice made it hard to breathe... Jimin staring... 

“So... you will work it off... I will get much back from Min Yoongi... as long as he still wants you... which I’ve heard he does...”

Jimin felt his skin itch as the small, dark eyes roamed over his bare torso. “... as long as he thinks he’ll be getting you back...” a short tongue came out to slide over thick lips. “... /thinks/...”

The chilling laughter didn’t cut through the nausea he was feeling.

How could he have put this man out of his thoughts, off of his radar?

Jimin had been living a new life... one filled with eager expectations... reciprocated friendships, affections... falling in love...

Old Jimin may have been wary of something happening, suspicious and on edge for danger...

But Park Jimin, as late as this morning, had been free from the strains of gross expectations, harried anxiety... he’d been able to throw himself into work he loved, people that appreciated him and the talents he had to offer... his friendships and company...

And a man that made him feel like more than he had thought he was... made him feel like he was all he’d always hoped he could be...

“Jimin.”

Sensing he’d lost his focus, the man snapped his short, thick fingers in front of the younger’s face. “Ah... thinking about Min Yoongi?”

He tutted as Jimin tried to re-school his expression into blankness.

“Still so pretty... though I miss the silver-“ the thick fingers reached out to touch his hair, making Jimin recoil away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

The man tutted again, smiling a reptilian grimace. “Ahhhh... now,... I’m afraid that’s going to be impossible, Jimin...” His eyes again roved the muscled chest, arms...

Jimin tested his wrists, feeling the plastic bite into the soft, thin skin.

Insides twisting, he saw the rotund man, who seemed even more corpulent than before, slide out of his jacket, stepping out of his shoes.

Jimin’s shoes had been taken when he was thrust into the bedroom, in one of the the second floor apartments.

As he had tried to drag his feet, he could hear the heavy wheezing behind him, making him want to scream.

The three men that had hands on him had shoved him onto the old bed, though looking clean, and while two held him, the third removed his shoes, Jimin threatened with violence if he tried to kick out.

Knowing it was futile, Jimin had tried to hold to some semblance of dignity as his shoes were removed...

... but felt panic as he saw the fat man confer with two of the others as the third continued to watch him... and saw the one leave, only to come back with a pair of large shears.

“Unfortunate to have tied you up with so many layers still on, Jimin... but easily remedied.” Jimin could do nothing as two of the men held him and the third began scissoring through his designer coat... his jacket... his dress shirt...

The ruined fabric was pulled away from his body, and Jimin could recognize distaste and disgust as the men did their job while the CEO watched with fleshly avarice.

Jimin was surprised when the men thrust him back to the bed, then began to walk to the door.

The small, porcine eyes fixed on him, still hungry, but amused. “Ahhhhh, Jimin... you wonder why they’re leaving me ‘defenseless’ with you?...” Jimin had to have given something away with his eyes. “I have nothing to fear from you, sweetheart... see?”

And Jimin saw him pull out a phone, slowly tabbing through something until he found what he was looking for.

The satisfied grin triggered a gaping pit in Jimin’s gut... apprehensive... fearing he knew what he was about to see...

“I’ve been watching and rewatching this, in anticipation of our reuniting, my dear... ever since your father, oh...” he smiled nastily. “Excuse me, Park Jung-Hwa, had promised another ‘meeting’ with you... and didn’t deliver...”

And there, in front of him, he saw a dark video, but with the night camera quality, could still clearly see himself,... nude... that night at the charity benefit weekend... splayed over the suite’s sofa armrest... his fake groans and sounds being punched out of him as the fat man thrust into him making him want to throw up all over himself... he could feel the blood drain from his face...

... his father... NO!, ... Park /Jung-Hwa/... had assured him again and again the only stipulation was no video, no pictures... to maintain their dark dealings... so others couldn’t blackmail the company, Jung-Hwa...

But this man... this vile, disgusting... of course, he had... of course he would...

The obscene giggle was no less vile than what Jimin was watching...

... there... grabbing Jimin by the hair...

“... no, sweetheart, you don’t want to miss this...” the pig remonstrated as Jimin tried to avert his eyes...

“... one of my favorite parts...”

The fat man had pulled out, just to pull Jimin back up by his hair, turn him and push him to sit on the seat, then thrust his hard member, which had just been in his ass, right into his mouth, fucking into his face, his heavy breathing almost disguising the pained grunts of the younger, then the long, obscene groan as he began to cum in the open mouth, then pulling out enough to splay the last of the white spurts all over the closed-eyed face.

“Eat it... all of it...” came the filthy command... and Jimin watched, numb, as he saw his own hand come up to swipe at what he could feel, then depositing it in his mouth.

Jimin swallowed, trying to keep the bile and nausea down... his anxiety was almost bursting his heart...

“See, my dear... we’re going to re-create that beautiful, beautiful night...” the man oozed patently fake sincerity, “... and yes,... once again, you’ll be a star...”

Jimin jerked his chin away when he felt a finger try to slide down his jaw. 

“... because if you don’t cooperate... this will be sent /immediately/ to Min Yoongi... and the company... as well as to the press... because, my dear... I have /nothing/ really to lose... the uproar this will cause will leave me with just enough time to leave my dear old homeland once again... permanently... /with/ you, sweetheart...”

Jimin stared, drained of thought.

“I’ve just liquidated everything and have everything ready for a new start... somewhere where you and I won’t cause as much disturbance with our ‘endeavors’... and where I have many, many friends that would... like to get to know you /as well/...”

“So... before all of that happens... I thought we could have just one more time, here, at one of my last properties... before leaving for good...”

Jimin blew out hard through his mouth. “What makes you think I’d willingly let-“

The jowled scowl gave him pause. “What? Did you miss the part where Min Yoongi’s life would be destroyed? His businesses, anyway, which are pretty much one and the same... not to mention his family’s holdings... knowing you were tied to them... after everything that will be released... and don’t worry... I’ve plenty of people ready to begin the rumor mill on how much Min Yoongi was a part of such ‘secret’ assignations... everyone has seen how much time the two of you spend together... I bet most have assumed so already...”

As he’d been speaking, the fat man had moved closer and closer to Jimin, forcing him to retreat further onto the bed, and in a sick and nauseating mockery of a seduction scene, the fat man slowly began to prowl onto the bed, licking his thick lips as he got closer and closer to Jimin’s face.

“Tell me, sweetheart... has he fucked you already? He looks like he could take a cock or two, himself... but I bet he’s too arrogant for that... no... I’m sure he’s stuck his own dick into you a number of times, already, hasn’t he?”

Jimin tried to steady his breath, to control the rage and horror and helplessness he was feeling, engulfing him...

“Ahhhh... well... that’s all right... I suppose he kept you in good shape for me... and all too soon, sweetheart... I’m going to have to get used to sharing...”

Jimin felt a heavy, thick hand begin to slide up his thigh until it reached his pants, his belt having been distastefully removed earlier.

He stared at the wall, desperately grasping for any other thought than the feel of the fat fingers working at his button and fly...

As he heard the grunt of exertion, the man eagerly tugging at his pants, his boxers, trying to remove them, Jimin digging his ass into the mattress to put off the inevitable as long as he could, he looked to his still-bound wrists...

The fat man was right.

What could he do?

There were men probably just on the other side of the door, waiting for them to finish their ‘business’... to take them away after... and if he tried anything, they would come rushing in and take him away all that much sooner.

Jimin closed his eyes as he was slapped for obstructing the other’s eagerness, feeling the material slip away and down his ass, two hands inexorable tugging his pants down...

What could he do?... what could he do?... with agonizing despair... Jimin realized his only hope was to keep this man busy as long as possible... to let him have what he wanted to buy himself time... Yoongi time... he should know by now?... /someone/ should know by now that Park Jimin was nowhere he should be?...

Jimin felt the bile in the back of his throat rise as he felt a fleshy hand grasp at his soft cock.

**********************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry!
> 
> I don’t think I can have the next chapter up right away... I’m sorry... just had to get these parts up and over with...
> 
> REMEMBER happy ending!!!!!
> 
> Drop comments, hit kudos, find me on twt@starry4yngi and 
> 
> THANKS FOR READING!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is...

************************

Jimin grunted,... the pain... the humiliation... sweat poured down his face, obscuring his vision as a thick, meaty hand grasped for his hair, yanking it back with sudden ferocity, the hoarse, thick breathing making everything more sordid... he wanted to be sick from the feel of the too-familiar mass of wet flesh on his his, skin slapping against skin, and another grunt was pushed out of him... but he just had to hold out a little longer...

_______________________

“Yoongi! They’ve found him... they’ve got a locale...”

Jin’s voice sliced through the nightmare of Yoongi’s thoughts, whose own fingers had been flying over his laptop, earpiece in, hearing the exchange of his father’s people tracking down the trails they’d found.

Everything halted as Yoongi stood.

Jin put his phone on speaker “-last properties he’s just signed over... run down complex... we’re sending-“

Yoongi grabbed his laptop and gestured to the others peremptorily. “Let’s go... Tae... you drive...”

As the six young men scrambled, Yoongi was tersely relaying instructions for cars to be ready.

“Tae, you drive, and Jin come with me... Kook, you’ll have Hobie with you behind us...” he wrenched the door open. “Let’s go.”

_______________________________

“Tae... is this the best-“

The boxy grin was gone, flinty look in place. “Hyung... no one is going to get you there faster than I can... but we can’t /fly/... still have to take available streets...” Tae was known for his seemingly reckless driving... but it had always been a hobby of his, to tear around and practice in stunt training grounds, he and his boyfriend whiling away ‘lazy’ weekends tearing up mock-sets, evading imaginary tails and blowing off steam together. Jin always scolded them for the unnecessary danger they put themselves in, but Yoongi had always considered it honing invaluable skills... which he was grateful for right now.

Yoongi’s mouth worked. “I know... fuck, I’m sorry... it’s just...”

Yoongi stared out of the windshield, seeing nothing but a bright smile and hidden vulnerability. 

“I told him he was safe... that he could plan his future... he could live his life with his head high...”

Tae didn’t spare him a glance as he continued to weave through traffic, expertly slicing in and out of openings between cars that didn’t seem to exist before he was through them.

“I pushed off the date I was going to ask him out on... I-“

Yoongi felt a hand from behind on his shoulder.

“Yoongi... you didn’t know... how could you know... fucking degenerate bastard-“ Jin squeezed lightly. “We’ll get him back...we’ll get Jimin...”

Yoongi had a tic in his set jaw. 

“But in what condition, hyung? What if he’s... what if they... /break/ him...” Yoongi’s fists clenched on his knees, skin draining pure white at the knuckles from the force.

Joon sighed. “Then you love him... even more... you love him and help him pick up his pieces... again... with all of us to support you both...”

Yoongi lifted his eyes to the rearview mirror to meet the sober, mature gaze of one of his best friends.

He gave a short nod.

“There it is!” Tae said quickly, turning down another street. “Looks like your father’s security is already... and there’s the police...” 

Even as he spoke, Tae was pulling along the sidewalk, but wasn’t at a full stop when Yoongi flung his door open and took the pavement running, steel in his gaze as he barreled in with the other men flooding out of cars.

“Yoongi! Fuck!”

Jin was cursing under his breath, not wanting to draw too much attention to the streets for the men inside.

Joon and Jin had already left the car by the time Tae had shut the car off, just a two heartbeats behind them... and felt more than heard a second car behind theirs pulling up.

Yoongi had run into the foyer of the building, already secured by his father’s men... and saw more than a few of the men down on their knees or flat on the ground, being held in place.

No where did he see Lee Kwang-hyok.

Yoongi turned to one of the men on his knees. “Where’s Lee Kwang-hyok?”

The man just stared straight ahead.

Yoongi kicked him in the balls.

Hard.

As the man’s sudden gasp of pain shot out of his mouth and he collapsed forward without ceremony, retching, Yoongi took one step over and looked at the next man.

“He-he- he took the bitch upstairs... the next floor...”

Even before the man could finish, a part of Yoongi promised himself he would fucking kick this man in the balls, too, but there was no time... the fucking putrid mountain of flesh had had Jimin with him too long-

There was an ugly chuckle from a man on the floor.

“May not be much left of him to use by now... rest of us had to leave... sounded like he was fucking the bitch into the mattress, fucking unnatural motherfuckers...” his venom ended in a choke as a leather shoe slammed into his side, courtesy of one of his father’s security detail.

As Yoongi took the stairs two at a time, ahead of the other security men, he heard his name and knew he was being tailed by his friends as well.

Heart pounding, the adrenaline jolting electricity fueled by fear and rage tingling through his limbs, his chest, his heart, he race up the narrow stairs and looked side to side, intent on trying each door... and almost fell into the apartment when the first door gave way.

Empty, but he could hear the sounds... down the short hall... the grunts and heaves, the cut off cries of unimaginable endurance of horror...

“Yoongi-“

Yoongi /flew/ down the hall, and reaching the closed door, hearing the obscene heart-breaking sounds behind it. Hands out to the walls, he braced himself, raising his foot to-

Only to be pulled back and Kookie, the most serious look he’d ever seen on their maknae, raised his boot-shod foot and with exquisite aim and focused strength, kicked the door open with violent precision, making it slam against the wall.

Yoongi didn’t even notice the gun Jin was pointing at the bed as they all thrust through... just saw...

... mounds of quivering naked flesh, belly taught with hanging fleshy flat tits, fat legs kicking with pants still around the ankles... usually-piggy eyes made wide in terror and sweat pouring down the brick red face that had no flush of normal coloring, looking bloated and ready to burst.

The thick, normally greasy-looking lips were stretched open around... a shirt... most of it trailing out, but enough had been shoved in to muffle his hoarse cries...

And Jimin, Jimin was barely visible from behind the thick, fleshy mass, his zip-tied wrists visible, trailing blood as the plastic bit into soft skin, arms around the the trunk of a neck, bare biceps bulging as he continued to choke hold the other, naked legs splayed and delivering kicks with his heels, repeatedly drumming into whatever vulnerable body parts his heels could reach, the whole time exerting his strength to choke the man in his arms, the shirt foiling his attempts, but obviously unwilling to give him the surcease to readjust his hold.

Yoongi stared, mouth open, seeing the puffy lips, abused from the slaps, split, teeth sinking into them as Jimin, tears of exertion weeping from his eyes narrowed to mere slits in determination and hate, continued to make his own obscene noises and grunts, eliciting heavier tones by abusing the gross human being on top of him, both of them struggling for breath...

And Yoongi thought he’d never seen anyone more beautiful... sweat drenched hair in elf-locks, face red from exertion... even through the terror, even through the torment and the hate... Park Jimin was beautiful... so beautiful and strong... saving himself... 

... saving /himself/...

And at the door’s crash, Jimin had looked up, eyes still steel, ready for whatever would come, whether his subterfuge was discovered, more men to try to abuse him, to rescue the filth in his arms,... to put a bullet through his head... he didn’t care... he wasn’t going to go down without a fight this time... because he was worth fighting for... for /himself/...

_________________________

Even as the fat hand fisted his soft cock, Jimin closed his eyes, trying to regulate his breath, thinking that he could do this... he could endure this just one more time... just one more time until Yoongi -

“Ah... pretty slut... still such a pretty, dirty little slut... need me in your mouth to get you hard, Jimin? Need me to fuck your sweet mouth, you filthy slut?”

Jimin could feel the hot breath on his face, the bed sink as the CEO made his way up to him, undoing his own shirt, his pants.

Jimin lay there, too disgusted and nauseated for his body to respond to any lascivious touch... taking deep breaths, mind racing...

Yoongi... Yoongi must have landed... must have stopped by the office... the meeting... someone... someone /had/ to have noticed Park Jimin was not where he should be... someone... /someone/...

He felt himself and the bed shake as the fat man breathed heavily, jerking his pants and underwear down, not even fully undressing before he had his hands at Jimin again, bare, having yanked his pants and boxers from him before fisting at him.

He felt a slap and opened his eyes.

“Ahhhh... much better... want you to see who’s doing this to you... who /owns/ you... whore... just a hole for sale, soon... but we can still have our moments, Jimin... you have much, /much/ to pay back...”

And as Jimin looked into the florid face, the evil gleam of the piggy eyes, the moist sheen to the skin from unholy excitement... he thought of Yoongi, who only looked at him in respect, in affection... in growing...

And Jimin felt it... the rage that had been building... beyond the torment, beyond the fear... who was this man that thought /Jimin/ owed him /anything/... who had used and abused him so abominably... so eager to do it again... without his consent, with his horror... 

And he’d had enough. He didn’t deserve /any/ of this... /none/... none of it...

And using the techniques he’d been learning along with relearning dance, learning to protect himself, with Yoongi’s enthusiastic support, taking dirty street fighting sessions, as Yoongi had, considering their smaller statures and Jimin’s lithe build would in reality be hard-pressed to overtake a larger, heavier foe...

As the fat man heaved himself up again, body mostly bare, licking his lips before readying to go in for a stomach-churning kiss, Jimin pulled his tied hands back, blading them, and with as much strength as he could, chopped at the man’s esophagus, hard and fast, causing the fat man to sputter in pain and shock while Jimin quickly moved to reach for anything, the shirt on the bed, and shoved as much of it as he could into the others mouth, looking frantically at the door as the fat man began to try to shout around his impromptu gag... and Jimin groaned, a punched, pained sound, even as he brought his bound hands, now in fists, as hard as he could on the large man’s sternum, unsure if his strength could make any impression on the large, though muscled, mound of belly, as the man had unintentionally fell to his back. Jimin saw the knob turn, and let loose with another pained shriek, pounding his bound fists into the wet, quivering flesh again and again, the sound of skin slapping on skin hopefully loud enough to -

Jimin was breathing heavily, moving around the blob of man, trying to make the expected sounds, seeing the knob no longer turning.

He heard the choked off outrage and pain of the man shaking in rage beside him, and seeing the big, meaty hands raising toward his own vulnerable form, scrabbled to get behind the fat mass and slung his arms over the fat head, around the jowls, and began to squeeze as hard as he could, letting the sounds of his cries of effort echo in the room, knowing anyone that heard would think it was from something they expected to hear...

He suddenly saw stars as one meaty clutch flailed at his face, splitting his lip, so Jimin dug backward, and straddling the mass with his long, muscled legs, began to kick at anything vulnerable... trying to keep his assailant far too busy managing his own pain to attempt to land any more blows on him...

Fucking shirt... the fucking shirt wasn’t letting him get into the vulnerable folds of the fat neck... Jimin took heaving breaths between his cries, tears of effort leaking from his eyes, feeling the burn of his muscles as he tried to squeeze the breath out of his tormentor... his nightmare... the man made a muffled outraged sound as Jimin’s hard heel met with the now-soft meat of the fat, short cock, and Jimin tried to dig his heel in, to reach more of the tender area, trying to never leave off from the continued vise of his grip around the man’s neck, whose hands were now flailing between trying to prize Jimin’s arms from him, impossible with the zip tie around his wrists, and reaching down to protect his vulnerable areas... both grunting, making almost obscene noises, a terrifyingly accurate echo of what had supposed to have been a humiliating rape...

Jimin narrowed his eyes... never again... he didn’t care what happened... he was never going to let this fat fuck touch him again without a fight... and grunted again, renewing his now agonizing hold around the sweaty neck, praying he’d break something, leave bruises... anything...

... and Yoongi would know... Yoongi would know that Park Jimin had stood up for himself... he hadn’t submitted... he fought... he fought for himself...

And somehow almost missed the huge bang of the door slamming open... terror almost flooding his system before taking his mind in his own iron grip and promising himself grimly... not without a fight... he would go down fighting... and looked over...

________________________________

... and couldn’t believe he was looking at Yoongi... beautiful, wonderful Min Yoongi... who had found him... who had come, ready to fight, to find him... to come for /him/...

Even as a sob tore out of the slender throat, Kookie and Joon had barreled on, needing only a fraction of a second to take in the situation, and Kookie was immediately throwing punches at the quivering jowls, trying to be sure to not hit Jimin’s arms that were still around the folds of the thick neck.

“Table... table... shears” Jimin panted, trying to avert his face to avoid an accidental blow to his own visage.

Yoongi’s eyes scraped the room and saw, by the window, a pair of long shears that had been left... face grim seeing the pile of cut clothing that must be Jimin’s.

Having subdued Lee with multiple hits, who looked as if he was, indeed, suffocating now with the dazed, unfocused bulging eyes, Kookie thrust the man’s chin up so Yoongi could get a better angle at the zip tie keeping Jimin bound to his once-victimizer, now victim.

As soon as Jimin’s wrists were separated, he fell back against the mattress, and they could only tell his chest was shaking from the quivering of the large man still on top of him.

Jimin, hair splayed, could only look to Yoongi, taking heaving breaths as tears leaked from his eyes, arms outstretched to the side, the pain of the pins and needles of rushing circulation nothing to the pain he felt at Yoongi seeing him like this... disgusting,... naked... with the gross behemoth, cock out, on top of him.

Their eyes locked, and as Kookie and Joon rolled the rotund refuse of a human being off of the young man, Yoongi slowly raised a hand to the wet cheek, eyes never leaving the chocolate brown stare, a thumb oh-so-gently wiping away one crystalline tear... His own eyes beginning to grow moist.

He could only stare, as the younger lay back, completely naked, still gasping for breath, unable to believe the end of his torment... of his attack...

Yoongi suddenly shrugged out of his jacket, putting it over Jimin to give him his modesty, and put a wondering finger to the split at the lip, the brutal hand slap visible on the smooth skin of the high cheeks...

Jimin blinked, causing more crystals to fall, slide down his cheeks, and agonizingly began to sit up, seeing Yoongi suddenly draw back.. only to take his coat and, gently helping the other to sit up, put it around his shoulders.

“Yoongi... you... you came... you came for me...” Jimin voice, almost unable to get his words out without effort, came breathily.

Yoongi settled the coat around the younger, carefully, so carefully, as if he was a fragile piece of porcelain that could shatter at the wrong touch.

But Yoongi knew... it was a lie... Jimin was now a steel sword, forged in pain and survival... his true strength finally tempered by the one thing that had been missing as his life had forged his nature... love and friendships... to teach him to love himself, to see his value and worth...

“I love you.” The low voice broke.

Jimin blinked again, staring at the canted, dark eyes, his naked legs drawing up, his nudity forgotten.

“I love you, Park Jimin... I’m in awe of you...” the gravel of his voice a mirror of the pain in both their faces, and Yoongi leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, pressing his lips against the damp skin, and didn’t fight when two shaking, small hands were felt on either side of his face, pulling his lips down to the bitten, abused ones.

Yoongi let himself have this... Jimin guiding their lips together... finally... and felt the almost wondering questing of the chapped lips against his, before it deepened, carried through by both of them, and clasped the lithe, but strong, body against his own as Jimin surged up against him in desperation, relief, fulfilled yearning,.. and love.

Yoongi knew his friends and his father’s men were towing the rotund piece of trash around,... but he only had room in his conscious mind for Jimin, holding him, kissing him, savoring what he could, giving what he could... which was whatever Jimin wanted, whatever Jimin needed, and after the first surge of feeling, of desire, sated, their kiss became softer, Yoongi’s hands now stroking soothingly up and down the bare back, and finally felt Jimin end the kiss abruptly, only to hide his face into the warm, white neck.

He sensed Tae come up to the side of the bed and held out something soft... the sweater Tae had been wearing over his own shirt, and in the other, what were most likely Jimin’s recovered pants and boxers...

Without a word, his friends ushered the others out of the room, leaving the two alone, Yoongi still just holding Jimin.

And when he felt the adrenaline leaving the younger in shock, his body quaking in his arms, from shock, from the trauma of the past few hours... of his life... he pressed his cheek against the soft, still damp dark hair...

“You are so amazing, baby... Park Jimin... you are the most amazing person I’ve ever met in my life... love you so much... I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, baby...”

He murmured praise and love as he continued to hold the other, feeling the shivering lessen in time... until he finally felt the younger try to gently pull away, but grasping the other’s waist.

“Yoongi...”

Yoongi ducked his head to look into the other’s eyes. “Did he... did he /hurt/ you, baby? Did he-“

Jimin shook his head, an ember of pride in the haunted eyes. “No... he tried... but... he... he never thought I’d fight back...”

Yoongi smiled tightly, so, so proud... but so sad and enraged that his heart had had to endure such a trial...

“Yoongi...”

Yoongi just looked at the small face in front of him, wanting to wrap him up in his arms and never let him go...

“Yes, baby?”

Jimin blinked... “I... I...”

Yoongi waited, ready to do anything, be anything, get anything for the glorious man in front of him... who had endured so much...

A new tear slid down his cheek, a new wet trail wending its way down older, dried tracks.

“I’m so... hungry... I’m so hungry...”

And Yoongi was startled into a chuckle that he immediately suppressed, pulling the other back into his arms firmly. “I /told/ you to not skip breakfast-“

And Jimin sniffled, a congested chortle leaving his throat... and the two stayed there, holding on to one another as if they anchored one another to this life, ignoring the commotions on the other side of the apartment, just taking the moment to breathe... to be.

_______________________

As the police dressed and took Lee Kwang-hyok into custody, Yoongi and helped Jimin dress, his abused muscles and body crying out in protest, stiff and sorely pressed. Jin had come back, and respectfully waiting until Jimin was in clothes, and had insisted on tending to Jimin’s wounded wrists, himself, the whole time taking such gentle care of the younger, Jimin knew Seokjin really did care about him... wasn’t disgusted by him... unsure of him...

After being led from the room of horror, Jimin had to endure the questions being hurled at him before a quiet man took charge, informing the police that Park Jimin would be made more comfortable and tended to on is way back to his own suite, where he could then answer their many questions.

Seeing that many seemed to know who the man was, obviously someone important from the way the security staff and the police followed his instructions, Jimin let himself again be led by Yoongi to a long stretch limo... not the one he’d been in before.

As he made his way slowly to the car, Yoongi holding the door open himself, Jimin eye’s happened to fall on an old man, smoking a cigarette, but now holding a cell phone in his hand. He looked visibly different from how he’d appeared earlier, and Jimin realized that the man’s entire demeanor had changed... he wasn’t cringing and trying to be invisible... there was a sharp, intelligent light in the eyes and an almost martial slant to his posture.

He met Jimin’s eyes and gave him a straight lipped grimace that Jimin took to be some kind of smile and gave a curt nod to the younger, even as Jimin slightly bowed in given acknowledgement.

Once in the car, he let himself be folded into Yoongi’s side, waiting for their driver to pull away, who still was getting instructions from the quiet man, who now stood at the driver’s window.

The door on Yoongi’s side was suddenly wrenched open, startling Jimin badly enough he jumped, and scowling at the muscled arm that was thrust in, Yoongi cursed and snatched at the paper sack, muttering curses and names as the arm pulled back and the door was closed again.

Jimin looked to Yoongi with wide eyes, ashamed at his sudden cowardice, but Yoongi just pulled him in tighter with the arm around his waist, reaching into the satchel.

A mouthwatering aroma came up, filling up the car.

Jimin’s mouth immediately began to water, hands lifting, but before he could say a word, reach for anything, Yoongi was unwrapping a burger, holding it up to Jimin’s mouth.

Jimin just looked at him as he leaned in, frantically taking a huge bite, chewing, feeling bits of crumb stuck to his lips, feeling like a pig... but seeing only love in the unchanging eyes locked on his own.

Jimin chewed voraciously, feeling his hunger like a gaping pit, but unable to look away from the other, and working the large bite in his mouth, took another as Yoongi put the burger back up, encouraging him to take another.

As Jimin tried to manage the food that puffed out both cheeks, Yoongi leaned in again, kissing the outside corner of his eye, his nose... the corner of his mouth.

Jimin had no words for how he was feeling as Yoongi reached to place the burger into his own hand, then used his free one to cup the sloped, defined and bruised jawline.

The car made its way quickly through the busy streets of now main thoroughfares, a line of dark sedans following.

The driver kept his eyes on the road, but avidly listening to the instructions being thrown around through his earpiece.

Min Young-Min was having the family doctor meet them at Park Jimin’s suite... food was being set up as they spoke... the police would be held at bay until Jimin had time to clean up, to come down as much as he could from his ordeal... with one detective and partner allowed up, as long as they remained respectfully courteous in their questioning before Jimin could forget, become confused... or just too drained to communicate properly.

His mother had been notified and would be staying with the Mins until Jimin himself decided to meet...

Park Jung-Hwa... was denying any knowledge of any of the sordid affair.

Lee Kwang-Hyok... Jimin needed to be assured the man was in great pain and being held in custody...

And then the lines were taken over by a tintinnabulation of sounds... voices chiming in that they were going to take good care of the ‘mini-mins’ and that they would personally fuck up any person that would upset Jimin, or Yoongi, further and that a fucking weasel of an intern had been found and demanding that the little fucker pay-

Woo-jin ssi had to repress the smile as Min Young-Min once again took over the call, patiently addressing the concerns of the presumable friends of Yoongi... and firmly told them to get off the main line of their security... with a stern admonition to Kim Namjoon that they would need to discuss the breach in security of said line since they’d blatantly been able to hack into it.  
He stared straight ahead, watching the city streets blur by, unheeding of the two young men in the back, pretending he couldn’t see the embraces, the soft kisses, the murmured endearments.

Woo-jin ssi took the turn and noticed... the sun seemed to shine a little brighter... the pallor of pollutants that seemed to hover over the city seemed a little less visible, a little more ephemeral, than it had seemed earlier.

*************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?
> 
> I think one last chapter or epilogue will wrap this up... thanks for reading and any comments are so appreciated... love to hear what you’ve been thinking, think, about this so far, this chapter... that it’s wrapping up...
> 
> Thank you to all that have been supporting me so much and for all of the kudos and comments so far.
> 
> If you haven’t yet but you’ve been enjoying, please hit those kudos and find my ass thirsting over and celebrating Yoonmin on twt @starry4yngi
> 
> And if you’ve enjoyed this, maybe give my other fics a try!

**Author's Note:**

> If you somehow found this first, check out my giant bus of a fic Legato or short story Revere...
> 
> And find my Yoonmin-loving-ass on TWT @starry4yngi


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